Special Effects: CGI
by Prioris
Summary: The second generation of Special Effects. Having defeated the Reapers, Jane Shepard takes on a new, and perhaps more difficult challenge: parenthood.
1. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

Special Effects: CGI (Continuing Generation Interludes)  
a series of Mass Effect fan fiction shorts

Disclaimer: The characters, events and settings of the _Mass Effect_ game series belong to EA and Bioware. I don't own them, nor am I profiting from this venture. The character of Solaia T'Soni-Shepard is mine; please don't borrow her without asking first. Attack lawyers may be checked at the bar; they'll be returned when you leave...

This story is a direct follow-on to _Greensleeves._ If you haven't read it already, I highly recommend reading that first, as you'll be at least partially lost otherwise.

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1. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

_In which Shepard dives head-first into domestic life, and realizes she should have checked the pool depth first.  
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"And that takes care of that," Jane Shepard muttered with relief, logging out of her secure connection to Alliance HQ and leaning back from her computer terminal. The paperwork relating to her most recent mission - breaking up a suspected slaving ring in the Terminus systems - had taken nearly as long as the mission itself, and Shepard, who had never dealt well with bureaucracy, had found a whole new level of hatred for the pencil-pushers and bean-counters on Arcturus by the time she signed the last report. _At least they let me work from home instead of making me go to the embassy,_ she thought as she glanced happily around the spacious Citadel Wards apartment she now called home. _Rank does have privileges._

As Shepard stood up and stretched, her communicator chirped one of its many distinctive alert tones. With a grin, she answered it, knowing that that particular chime belonged to one person only. "Hi, love. What's up?"

_"Checking in on you,"_ the voice of Liara T'Soni echoed across the connection. _"How is everything there?"_

"Just finished with the last of the Shelba mission reports. Solaia got home from her after-school classes about forty-five minutes ago, she's been reading in her room since. When will you be home?"

_"Probably not for at least another few hours,"_ Liara said apologetically. _"I have several theses left to grade, and then I have to stop at the market and pick up a few things for dinner."_

"Don't worry about that, I'll cook tonight," Shepard replied.

_"Since when can you cook?"_

"Since I found that _How To Cook Anything_ OSD in the kitchen. The recipes and menus are already laid out for you, all you do is pick the one you want to make and all the directions are right there. It's foolproof."

Liara's reply was a concerned-sounding hum, as a distinct note of worry crept into her voice. _"Jane, are you sure you're up to this?"_

The question carried a bit more weight than one might have suspected, given that Shepard's grand sum of domestic experience totaled slightly less than three weeks. She had spent the previous eight years isolated in the deepest reaches of dark space, locating and destroying the gargantuan sentient fleets of Reapers that had menaced the galaxy for untold millennia. Returning home after so long in exile had carried with it several significant shocks, not the least of which was that she was now the proud father of a seven and a half-year-old asari daughter. Although initially unconvinced of her ability to do so, Shepard had embraced the challenges of family life, and even now, she could not imagine how she had ever lived otherwise.

"Positive," Shepard said confidently. "Besides, I'm already at home, and you've had a long day. The least I can do is have a nice meal on the table when you get in the door."

_"All right, then. I will be home as soon as I'm done."_

Ending the call and loading the appropriate OSD into the reader in the kitchen, Shepard paged to the section on 'Easy Meals for Beginning Cooks.' Scanning through the menus, she murmured, "Hmm... looks good but we don't have potatoes... no way I'm making quiche... huh, this one looks good... we have chicken, rice, veggies... perfect."

"Whatcha doing, Dame?" Solaia asked, wandering into the kitchen in search of a snack.

"Cooking dinner - and don't fill up on those," Shepard replied, affectionately rubbing the top of the girl's head as Solaia pulled a container of cut-up vegetables out of the refrigerator. "We're having sauteed lemon chicken breasts, rice pilaf and steamed mixed vegetables. Sounds good, right?"

"Uh-huh," Solaia nodded. "Can I go on the extranet now?"

"One hour, and that's all," Shepard called as Solaia ran back out to the den with her prize.

The meal started out easily enough, as Shepard combined the appropriate proportions of rice, water and seasonings in a saucepan, but she quickly ran into a minor problem: the pan she'd chosen had no lid of its own, and the recipe unequivocally called for the rice to be covered. "What the hey, this one'll work," Shepard muttered, rummaging through the cabinets before finding a lid that approximately matched. It fit rather a bit more snugly than Shepard might have expected, and with some effort, she finally forced it down over the top of the pan. "Next, brown four boneless chicken breasts over medium-high heat with vegetable oil, salt and pepper," she read aloud, turning the stove burners to High. "How're you supposed to know how brown is browned? Slice a lemon into one-centimeter rounds - OW..." she hissed as the knife slipped, nicking the first knuckle of her left hand and introducing a few drops of lemon juice to the wound.

And then disaster struck. The rice pot, suffering under a fully powered burner and a too-tight lid, exploded as scalding hot rice flew in all directions. Shepard let out a loud and inventive string of curses, turning the cold water tap to full blast and throwing the pot into the sink. Clouds of acrid steam billowed into the air, causing the smoke detector to chirp angrily. With another snarl, Shepard set about scrubbing the burned rice out of the pot, hoping against hope that she could start a fresh batch in time to save the meal.

From the den, a child's howls of laughter could clearly be heard. Shepard poked her head through the doorway, only to see Solaia rolling on the carpet, holding her sides and crying with mirth. "Bad-words-o-rama," she choked through her guffaws.

"Laugh it up, Sunshine," Shepard muttered crossly. "Never mind your poor old Dame's slaving over a hot stove to make a nice dinner, but-- oh, _shiiit..._"

The smoke detector's chirp turned into a full-blown alarm, as the neglected chicken chose that moment to catch fire. Acting on instinct, Shepard sprinted out of the kitchen and scooped Solaia up over her shoulder, carrying her back into their bedroom and depositing her unceremoniously on the foot of the bed. "Stay here till I come back," she said harshly, running back to the kitchen to deal with the blaze. _Bloody hell, the one time you need a fire extinguisher and it's hidden behind half a dozen cleaner bottles,_ she thought as she fumbled through the under-sink cabinets. Grabbing hold of the device, she armed it and aimed it one-handed at the stove, using the other arm to shield her face as the canister automatically sprayed chemical foam over everything in a meter-wide arc.

Shepard had never counted herself among the ranks of the religious, but her muttered "Thank God" as she surveyed the now-extinguished remains of the fire carried no less conviction for that.

As she leaned against the wall, her communicator chirped its "unknown caller" tune. _"Captain Shepard, this is C-Sec Community Enforcement. We received an automated life safety signal from your residence, and an officer will be arriving shortly. Is everyone all right?"_

"Don't bother, we're fine," Shepard said tiredly. "Kitchen mishap. I put the fire out myself. No one's hurt, just the kitchen's a mess."

The dispatcher didn't sound convinced. _"Are you sure?"_

"Positive."

_"Very well, Captain, we'll recall our officer. Have a pleasant evening."_

Shepard ended the call, and then turned to Solaia, who had exited the bedroom and was gazing at the disaster in awe. "How do you feel about pizza for dinner?"

"Okay?" Solaia said with an uncertain smile.

"Unless you really want to eat chicken a la charcoal and rice flambe with whipped fire foam," Shepard deadpanned, which got a grin and a "Gross!" from her daughter. "Good. I'll order one. Onions, hot peppers and pineapple okay with you?"

Solaia made a horrid face, laughing all the while. "_Daaaaame!_ Ew! Super gross!"

"Oh, right, you like boring old cheese," Shepard said teasingly. "Can I convince you to go halves?"

"No way. The gross stuff always gets on the other half anyway and you can't just pick it off 'cause it still tastes like it's there."

"Picky, picky." Shepard took a challenge coin out of her pocket. "All right. Flip you for it."

"Tails never fails," Solaia immediately announced.

As the coin spun above their heads, a faint bluish flicker surrounded it for just a fraction of a second and then vanished.

"And the verdict is..." Shepard uncovered the coin, and her face fell. "Tails."

"Yes!" Solaia crowed. "I'm gonna go back on the net now--"

Shepard shook her head as she tapped in the communication codes for the local pizza parlor. "No, you're going to help me clean up the kitchen before your mother gets home. Besides, the pizza will be here in twenty minutes anyway. You can have the rest of your net time after we eat."

The girl let out a long-suffering sigh. "Okay."

Twenty minutes and several liberal applications of kitchen cleaner and scouring powder later, the kitchen had been largely restored to its pre-disaster appearance, at least if you ignored the lingering chemical aroma and the remaining char marks on the bottoms of the pots and pans. Just as Shepard accepted her extra-large cheese pizza and sent the delivery boy on his way, the door clicked open, unlocked from the outside.

"I think Mother's home," Solaia informed Shepard with a suitably grave expression.

"And so she is," Shepard said, walking out of the kitchen to greet the new arrival. "Hello, love," she said with a smile, pulling her in for a hug and a kiss. "How was your day?"

"Fine, if very busy." Liara paused, sniffing inquisitively at the air. "Something smells burned in here. And did I see the pizza delivery clerk on my way up?"

"Uh, yeah," Shepard said sheepishly.

"I thought you were going to cook tonight?"

"Well, I started out okay, and... well, let's say the results were less than edible."

"Dame blew up the kitchen," Solaia added helpfully. "It was really funny! The pan with the rice went FOOM everywhere and she said every bad word there is like ten times fast and then she was so busy cleaning up that the chicken caught fire and she had to get the fire sinisher n' everything--"

"Extinguisher," Shepard automatically corrected. "And it really wasn't an explosion, more of a small vapor pressure reaction. Nothing major, really."

"You blew up my kitchen." Liara pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed as she trembled minutely. Shepard considered her odds of reaching the door before Liara biotically threw her through it, and then she realized that the asari's shaking stemmed not from fury, but suppressed laughter.

"Well, like they say," she said tentatively. "When it absolutely, positively has to be destroyed overnight...?"

That did it. Liara broke up in a storm of helpless giggles, collapsing into Shepard's arms and laughing until tears ran down her face.

Wiping her eyes once she'd calmed from her laughing fit, Liara said, "Did you at least get half with vegetables?"

Shepard and Solaia looked at each other in resignation. "Oops."

* * *

Author's Notes: This one came from life experience, watching my dad blow up exactly the same meal in my teenage years. Suffice to say, Liara is a lot more understanding here than my mom was back then...

Challenge coins are popular little trinkets in the US and a few other allied military forces, which are issued to members of a specific unit in commemoration of some major event (completing advanced training, winning a unit commendation, etc). By tradition, anyone who owns such a coin can initiate a "coin check" by tapping or slamming their coin on a nearby hard surface, usually on a bar counter. All other coin holders then have to produce their coins; those who don't have their coins with them must buy a round of drinks for those who do. Shepard has a bunch of such coins, but the one she carries most is her N7 coin.

As with _Special Effects,_ I'm always open to suggestions, so write in any story ideas you might have and I'll try my best to accommodate them!


	2. Hoplophobia

2. Hoplophobia

_In which Shepard explains that guns don't kill people, Spectres do.

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"So, how was everyone's day?" Shepard asked, as she, Liara and Solaia sat around their dinner table. Thankfully, the meal was considerably more edible than Shepard's last attempt at culinary endeavors, having been created as a family effort; Shepard had handled peeling, slicing and other such preparatory tasks, while Liara did the actual cooking. Even Shepard, who prided herself on being able to learn new skills on as rapid a time frame as possible, had to admit that this was a much more effective use of capabilities.

"Quite slow, in all honesty," Liara replied. "I met with the department head to review a paper I have in progress on Prothean communications, and after that a few students stopped in for office hours."

"Boring," Solaia commented, helping herself to another serving of fish.

"Hey now, I'll have you know your mother can be quite the action hero underneath her mild-mannered scientist disguise," Shepard said with a laugh.

As they stood to clear the dishes, Solaia blurted out, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. We're going on a class trip to the museum next week. I gotta--"

"Have to," Shepard corrected.

"Have to have one of you sign my permission slip," Solaia finished.

"Let me see it." Liara read over the document briefly, and then signed her name on the indicated line. "It also says here that they want parent chaperones. Unfortunately I have a lecture to give that day, but perhaps..."

"I can go with you if you want," Shepard said. "But if you'd rather just hang out with your friends, that's fine too."

Solaia's eyes grew to the size of saucers. With an exuberant whoop, she leaped into Shepard's arms, at which the Spectre began laughing. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

The night before the museum trip, Liara awakened to an empty bed. The apartment was dark, and a faint rattling sound could be heard from the den. Pulling on a robe and a pair of slippers, she padded out toward the source of the noise. She found Shepard seated at her computer terminal, surrounded by half a dozen storage cases. An assault rifle's firing block lay disassembled on a large cloth, the upper torso of a Predator M hardsuit rested in the Spectre's lap, and the reek of solvent and lubricating oil hung in the air.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Shepard said softly, smiling at her beloved. "I tried to be quiet."

"It was not the sound that woke me," Liara replied in an equally soft tone. "It's nearly midnight, and I know you cleaned all those weapons last night. What is troubling you?"

Shepard shrugged, picking up the rifle and locking the firing block back into the frame. "Just want to be as prepared as possible for tomorrow."

Liara understood that sentiment, having gone through that experience of parenting paranoia common to all new mothers. "What is that diagram you're studying so intently?" she asked, wrapping her arms around Shepard's back and resting her chin on her shoulder.

"Floor plan of the museum. This place would make the perfect environment for an ambush or a hostage grab." Shepard tapped the controls, changing the view from top-down to a 3D projection. "These pillars' back faces are obscured from the security cameras. Nobody sees the aggressors until it's too late. Sniper hides anywhere along these galleries; put two up there and you've got a stinker of a crossfire. Aggressor assault team can dodge in and out of these display cases, use 'em as cover. Defenders are forced to come in through the museum main entrance, and the aggressors have a free-fire zone right down this stairway. Have a biotic or a combat engineer hide right here behind this sculpture. He's protected through 270 degrees of fire, and his buddies in the displays can whack anyone who tries to sneak around behind him."

Liara frowned a bit, studying the plot. "Do you really think someone would attempt such a brazen attack?"

Shepard's reply was a noncommittal grunt, but the rigid set of her jaw belied her apparent nonchalance. "We both saw people do much ball-- er, gutsier things on the _Normandy._ Besides, this is our daughter we're talking about. I am taking no chances."

The asari thought about that for several seconds, and then released her embrace, pulling up a chair next to Shepard instead. "Pass me that pistol and a cleaning cloth, please?"

* * *

"Single file line, please, and we'll count off by fives," the teacher said as the group of schoolchildren approached the Citadel's Museum of Science and Technology. "Every group needs a chaperone; if you can't pick one, I'll assign one to you. You count first, Keras, one, two..."

Five minutes later, Shepard found herself in charge of four awestruck first graders, all of whom crowded around her as though she were some kind of superhero. "I never knew your aunt was a Spectre, Solaia," a human girl said, staring up at Shepard with wondering eyes. "So coooool."

"Actually, I'm her father, not her aunt," Shepard said with a smile, as the child regarded her with a confused look. "Huh? But you can't be a daddy, you're a girl!"

"Silly. There's no such thing as boys n' girls to us," Solaia told her.

"Are those real?" a serious-faced turian boy asked, pointing to Shepard's hardsuit and weapons pack.

"Yes, they are, and no, I can't show you. Come on, let's go see the exhibits," Shepard said, all too aware of their exposed position in the foyer and wanting to get the children out of the potential danger zone as quickly as possible.

As Shepard watched the children scatter, one of the other parents, a rotund human woman with frizzy hair, approached her. "Oh, hello there, Mizz Shepard, I'm Penny Rothrock. Could I talk to you for just a teensy minute?" she asked, pursing her mouth into a rather sickly imitation of a smile.

"What can I do for you?" Shepard replied, her tone neutral.

"Well, see, it's... oh, I just don't know how to say this... you see, we all know what you did for the Citadel, and we don't ever want you to think we're ungrateful, oh no--"

Shepard snorted in amusement at the woman's temporizing. "Spit it out, I won't bite."

"It's... well, all that." Mrs. Rothrock gestured vaguely in the Spectre's direction. "Is all that really necessary?"

"All what?"

"All... you know, _that._ That suit of _armor_. And all those _awful_ _guns._" The woman said the last two words like a code phrase.

"Really," Shepard said levelly.

"Well, you see, some of the other parents and myself, we just think it's very poor judgment to have so many _awful guns_ around children. Not to mention it just sets a terrible example. Children _respect_ us, Mizz Shepard, they really _look up_ to us as parents. What does it say to our children if we think it's acceptable to run around in public dressed up like wild action heroes and shooting people willy-nilly?"

Shepard's tone could have cut armor plate. "One, I am a Citadel Council Spectre and an Alliance Navy officer. I am sworn to defend Citadel Space and all the people who inhabit it, and that requires me to be armed. Two, neither I nor any other serviceman runs around dressed up like a wild action hero; we wear uniforms and conduct ourselves to military standards. Three, on the rare occasions we do have to exercise deadly force, we have very strict rules governing our actions. A serviceman who shot a civilian simply because he or she felt like it would be court-martialed on the spot."

"But really, Mizz Shepard--"

"Perhaps you're not aware, but in the Navy, only a superior officer calls another officer Mister or Miss," Shepard interrupted, with a chilly smile. "Unless you're hiding admiral's bars under your sweater, I would prefer being addressed as Captain."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Rothrock said in a syrupy sweet tone. "But surely you don't think a horde of marauding Gethians are going to burst into the Citadel right this very minute?"

"Frankly, I find that a little insulting, since that's precisely what did happen eight years ago," Shepard replied, privately appalled at the woman's lack of basic knowledge. "What would _you_ do if your theoretical horde of geth – not 'Gethians,' by the way, they're called geth, singular and plural – did burst in here?"

Mrs. Rothrock favored Shepard with a smug smile. "Well, isn't that a silly question? They would never reach the station; the Navy would take them into custody long before they ever reached the relay. And even if they did, why, I would wait for C-Sec to arrive, of course."

Shepard winced, pinching the bridge of her nose in imitation of Liara's favorite frustration gesture.

"Besides, it's just terribly dangerous to have all those _awful guns_ around children. All it would take would be one teensy slip, or some little doodad could break loose inside one of them, and--"

Shepard burst out laughing, earning herself a frown from Mrs. Rothrock. "You're kidding, right?" Off the other woman's filthy expression, she continued, "In the first case, if some dangerous situation occurs anywhere in Citadel Space, I'll be one of the first people to respond – either as a Spectre or as a Navy captain. I can assure you that any aggressor who is sufficiently motivated to cause trouble right under the Citadel's collective nose is not going to be dissuaded by strongly worded threats. As for doodads, thingamajigs and whoosie-whatsits breaking loose, anything like that would cause a failure to fire rather than a runaway firing condition."

"But what if one of the children gets a hold of one of them? The harm they could cause – oh, it just makes me sick thinking about it!"

"Not so. My weapons – as a matter of fact, any modern weapon – contain many safeguards to prevent negligent firing. Here, I'll demonstrate." Shepard unholstered her pistol, causing Mrs. Rothrock to shriek and leap away. Undeterred, she held the weapon out butt first. "Here's my service sidearm, a Master X straight from the C-Sec armory. Go ahead. Take the weapon and try to shoot me."

"You're insane!" Mrs. Rothrock cried, pointing to the pistol as though it were a poisonous snake.

Shepard smiled reassuringly, taking a step toward Mrs. Rothrock with the pistol held out in front of her. "No, really, I insist. You've made it very clear that you have concerns about my weapons' safety. I'd like you to see for yourself that your concerns are unfounded. It's as simple as can be, just aim the weapon at me and pull the trigger. Nothing will happen, the weapon won't fire. I guarantee it."

Mrs. Rothrock didn't wait to be invited a third time; she ran away whimpering.

"Dame, what'd you _do_?" Solaia said amusedly, walking up to stand at Shepard's side.

"One of the moms came over to talk to me." Shepard pointed to the now-hysterical woman, who had retreated to a clump of human parents at the far end of the exhibit hall. "Do you know who she is?"

Solaia made a disdainful face. "Oh, that's Teddy Rothrock's mom. He's a big weenie."

"Language, please," Shepard warned her.

"Weenie isn't a bad word, it's another name for a hot dog," Solaia informed her archly. "Besides, he's the biggest wimp in the class. He never plays with anyone at recess 'cause he says his mom says it's unsafe and he always makes up stuff to get out of gym class 'cause he's afraid of getting hurt and even then he cries all the time. What'd you talk to her about? She looks really upset."

With a shrug, Shepard replied, "She thought it was unsafe for me to go armed in public. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she didn't want to listen."

"That's why you tried to give her your gun, huh?"

Shepard nodded in confirmation, and Solaia snickered, pointing to the knot of now angrily buzzing parents. "Yeah, I don't think they're gonna invite you to join the PTA."

* * *

Author's Note: Hoplophobia is the irrational fear of weapons, particularly firearms (Greek _hoplon,_ military equipment). Usually displayed by the more rabid gun-control advocates, and frequently disguised as concern for "innocent children" or "innocent bystanders" when the real problem is the individual's complete terror at the idea of someone using any kind of implement to harm another. Taken to its logical extreme, these are the kind of people who would gladly ban everything but cotton wool and paper tissues, and even then they'll watch very carefully to make sure someone doesn't try to suffocate someone else with the cotton wool.

Bonus points to MamaBear!Liara for her reaction to Shepard's threat assessment. "Pass me that pistol, please?"

Thanks for reading, and my earlier offer still stands - if you've got ideas, send 'em in!


	3. Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

3. Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

_In which Liara impresses upon Solaia the importance of being earnest._

* * *

"Mother! Hi!" Solaia cried, jumping up from her group of playmates as Liara walked into the common area of the Wards' after-school enrichment center. The center, in addition to the usual day-care and structured play facilities, also offered a range of classes on subjects including art, music, language and mathematics. It was for the latter reason that Solaia attended, the better to encourage her interests in science and foreign culture.

"Hello to you too, little one," Liara said with a broad smile, picking her daughter up for a hug. "Go get your things, it's time to go home."

As Liara signed the log book and made to leave, the director of the facility, a thin, acerbic-looking turian male, approached her. "Dr. T'Soni, may I speak to you both for a moment?"

"Of course," Liara replied, brows furrowed in confusion.

They walked back to the main office, where the director waved Liara and Solaia into the two chairs in front of his desk. "Please be seated." It was a command, not a request.

"What seems to be the problem?" Liara said calmly.

"The problem is that your daughter has developed a rather disturbing habit of lying," the director said. "The instructors have tried on several occasions to educate her on the consequences of her behavior, but we just can't seem to get across to her the difference between the truth and make-believe."

"Not lies, it's true," Solaia blurted. "Mother, tell him. I'm not lying, honest I'm not."

"I see. And what would the content of these lies be?" Liara asked, folding her hands in her lap.

"Well, in the last several weeks she's begun claiming that her father is a long-lost galactic hero, and lately she's even started telling everyone that her father is a Spectre, in fact the same Commander Shepard who was involved in all that Reaper business. Now, we're aware that children in... circumstances such as yours often generate fantasies about their missing parents, but frankly, we're disturbed as to the degree to which Solaia seems to believe her own stories."

"But it's _true!_ _Mother!_"

"This conversation does not require your input," the director said evenly. "Please be silent until the adults have finished speaking."

Liara frowned at that. "I see. Have you tried to confirm or deny these 'stories' with anyone else? Her regular school, for example?"

"We're not authorized to request that kind of information, and even if we were, I see no reason why we would," the director said blandly. "Really, Dr. T'Soni, even you have to admit it's an out and out fairy tale."

"It has been my experience that even the most outlandish of tales frequently contain at least some grain of veracity," Liara replied, with a calm smile. "I can tell you of any number of legends and fantasies from half a dozen species that eventually led to fantastic archaeological discoveries - cases where things in the real world were only found because they had been described in fiction."

Solaia hunched over in her chair, her face scrunched up in a furious scowl.

"Nevertheless, it's clear to us that these stories have no basis in anything but imagination, and they won't be tolerated," the director said, with an air of finality. "If Solaia is to continue in classes here, we would like some assurance from you that she won't be telling these lies again in the future. Perhaps you may want to arrange psychological counseling for her."

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you for the suggestion," Liara said. "I will make absolutely certain she knows the distinction between lies and truth, and the importance of honesty."

As they left the enrichment center, Solaia angrily yanked her hand out of her mother's, stomping away down the sidewalk. "I _hate_ you," she blurted out, tears beginning to trickle down her face. "I wasn't lying, you _know_ I wasn't lying, an' you let that stupid teacher think I was anyway. 'S not fair."

"That will be quite enough, little one," Liara said sternly. Picking the furious child up and tucking her head into the crook of her neck, she said in a much softer tone of voice, "Please give me some credit; I know perfectly well the truth of the matter."

"Then why didn't you tell him I wasn't lying?" Solaia sniffled, her voice muffled by virtue of her face being buried in Liara's shoulder.

"I did, if you listened carefully," Liara replied. "I told him that every story has some kernel of truth within, and that I would make sure you understood how important it was to always tell the truth. I am doing that right now." She sat them both down on a nearby park bench before continuing. "Let me tell you a story about something that happened to your Dame before you were born, during the Reaper crisis."

Solaia didn't look convinced, but sat quietly anyway.

"You see, the event that started the whole incident had to do with a Prothean communication beacon on a planet called Eden Prime. Your Dame happened to be within the beacon's range when it went off, and as a result the beacon gave her terrible visions of death and destruction - in fact, the end of the Prothean civilization at the hands of the Reapers. She tried to tell anyone who would listen that the Reapers were a real threat, that they would erase all life in the universe unless all the species of the Citadel acted immediately to stop them. Everyone who heard the story, though, accused her of lying. They all thought the Reapers were make-believe, a ghost story, and that your Dame was either hopelessly misguided, being used for political games, or outright insane. As a result, no one believed her. Not the Council, not the human military, not the press, not anyone."

"But you did, right?" Solaia asked.

"I did," Liara agreed. "She asked me to look into her mind to try and make sense of her visions, and I saw the images for myself. I knew from my work that _something_ had ended the Protheans, indeed had ended all organic life fifty thousand years ago, and the images just confirmed for me that the Reapers were the culprit." With a lightly ironic chuckle, she added, "Of course, I probably would have believed her even if I had not seen the visions. Even then, I was more than a bit enamored of her."

"So then what?"

"The Council continued not to believe your Dame, right up to the point when an armada of geth came through the Citadel relays and Sovereign landed on the roof of the Citadel Tower," Liara said simply.

"Then they were really stupid," Solaia laughed. "The Reaper was _right there_. How could they _not_ know Dame was telling the truth then?"

"Because some people, like your after-school director, refuse to believe things they do not like to hear until the proof is right in front of them," Liara explained. "Sometimes you will find that people will accuse you of lying or being misguided, when you know in your deepest heart that what you say is truthful. When that happens, just remember that no matter who opposes you, you will always be in the right as long as you tell the truth. That is what your Dame did back then, and what you did today. Solaia, I am so very, very proud of you, and I always will be."

"Still not fair," Solaia said, still indignant although somewhat calmer. "You should've told that teacher I was right."

"Rest assured, he will learn of his error," Liara said. "There is a human saying that sums up this situation perfectly: I left him a rope on which to swing."

Solaia looked at her mother in consternation. "Huh?"

"Or, at least I think that is how it is said. It means that when you know someone is deserving of punishment, sometimes it is wiser to remain silent and let them prepare that punishment for themselves, rather than inflict it upon them immediately. For example, I happen to know that your Dame spent her day at the Citadel vital records office, clearing up the legal matters of her relationship to you. I suspect your teacher will receive the proof of your honesty in the very near future. In this case, revenge truly is best kept refrigerated."

"Is that another saying?" Solaia asked, even more confused than before. "'Cause I don't get it."

"Never mind, it isn't important. And in any case, it is long past time for us to go home; your Dame said something about going out for dinner, and I don't want her to be kept waiting. Come along, you're a bit too big for me to carry."

* * *

Two days later, as the daily mail arrived at the enrichment center office, the secretary walked into the director's office with a thick envelope. "Letter for you, sir," she said absently.

A few moments later, a strangled gasp brought her running back from the front desk area. "Sir? Are you all right?"

The director, whose face had contracted into a mask of apoplectic shock, only responded with a wordless splutter. In his shaking hand was clutched an old-fashioned announcement card, which she took from him to peruse briefly. The card was printed on thick cream-colored stock, embossed with the delta and stars of the Systems Alliance in gold foil. Beneath that, in black ink, was the engraved message:

_Captain Jane Shepard, Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance  
announces with pride that  
Solaia T'Soni  
daughter of Dr. Liara T'Soni  
has been acknowledged as her daughter  
and will henceforth be known as  
Solaia T'Soni-Shepard_

_January 8, 2191 CE_

* * *

Author's Notes: Poor Latchkey guy never knew what hit him. Liara just sat back and waited for him to finish digging that lovely pit so he could fall right into it, and fall he did. Nevertheless, she _still_ doesn't get human idioms. :-P

Story requests! Next chapter goes to Wolf-Shadow's-Ghost, who wanted to see Shepard catch up on Solaia's early years, and after that, BioDragon's pajama party.

Thanks for all the kind reviews, and thank you all for reading!


	4. Naked Baby Pictures

4. Naked Baby Pictures

_In which Shepard learns the details of her daughter's birth and infancy, and Solaia wishes she didn't._

_

* * *

_

Today, Shepard decided, felt like a rainy Sunday. Even though the Citadel had no weather patterns to speak of and fully eighty percent of its resident species wouldn't know what Sunday was, the sensation of lazy calm carried all its own implications. She lay stretched out on the couch, with Liara cat-napping contentedly in her arms, the asari's head nestled against Shepard's left shoulder as had always been her habit. The two of them were alone in the apartment, Solaia having gone to a classmate's home for a play date.

Shepard's mood grew pensive as she considered the little girl who had so thoroughly taken over her life. Eight weeks ago, she had been alone in the universe, an untouchable package of duties and responsibilities bundled up in a hardsuit and sold to the galaxy as the finest example of humanity. Now, her job description had been turned upside down: instead of simply protecting the universe, she _was _someone's universe. Adjusting to the more mundane aspects of parenthood had been easy enough, and she knew she wouldn't have traded any of her current life for all the riches in the galaxy. However, Shepard still struggled with the fact that she knew so very little about her daughter, that she had missed so many of the events that make up a childhood - first days, first words, first steps, first day of school.

"All that heavy thinking must be tiring your brain," Liara murmured, snuggling a bit closer into Shepard's shoulder. "Care to share it?"

"I was thinking about Solaia, actually... everything I missed while I was away. I was hoping you might tell me about it."

"Where would you like me to start?"

"The beginning is a good place," Shepard deadpanned, which earned her a light poke in the ribs. "How about when you first found out you were pregnant? Usually a human female's first indication that she's expecting is a missed period, but since your species doesn't have that issue..."

"For which I am eternally grateful, seeing what it does to you every month," Liara teased, but then she took a much more serious tone. "For us, we can sense the developing life within - in a very real sense, we can feel and shape our daughters' development in the womb. It's usually around the third or fourth week of pregnancy that the developing embryo's nervous signals become strong enough to be felt. In all honesty, I never expected it to happen; most asari do not even consider motherhood as an option until the third century or so. As best I can determine, our last... encounter before your departure must have extended into an actual melding. Usually we can dissociate sex from procreation, although it has been known to happen when one or both partners become overly caught up in the joining..."

Shepard snickered a bit at that. "Considering your only birth control is in your mind, I'm surprised it doesn't happen more often."

"As you might imagine, waking up and realizing that you are no longer alone in your own body is quite a shock. I ran straight to Dr. Chakwas, who confirmed it."

"Somehow, I can just see the look on her face," Shepard said amusedly. In a decent impression of the doctor's dry British accent, she continued, "You're up the spout, dear, no two ways about it. Congratulations, it'll be a girl - oh, did I just spoil a surprise?"

Liara chuckled at Shepard's imitation. "That is almost exactly how the conversation went. She suspected who the second parent was as soon as the genetic screening came back, of course, but she agreed to let me keep those results confidential. I thought it would be better if our daughter grew up away from all the attention that had surrounded your exploits. I also wanted to break the news to you myself, rather than have you find out in the media. I admit, I feared that you would attribute an ulterior motive to my condition... I believe you call such an individual a gold farmer?"

"Gold _digger,_ Li," Shepard laughed, having long since become accustomed to her beloved's occasional mangling of human idiom. "I would never think that of you," she continued in a gentle tone. "I admit, I was surprised, shocked even, but it wasn't because I thought you had used me. Quite the opposite: I thought you had found someone else and gone on without me."

The asari's response was to wrap her arms around Shepard's torso a bit more securely. "Not in a thousand lifetimes," she murmured. "You've entirely spoiled me, Jane. I wanted no other then. I still do not now."

Shepard couldn't help but feel a certain self-satisfaction at hearing that, but she just smiled in reply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"So then what?"

"As you can imagine, one can hide a child's parentage, but not the child herself," Liara said wryly. "Ashley was the next to find out after Dr. Chakwas. Naturally, she told the entire rest of the crew. I don't believe I had more than ten minutes to myself for the rest of my pregnancy - there was always at least one person checking after me. When I went into labor, the nurses had to clear the waiting room."

"I wish I had been there," Shepard said wistfully.

"There is a whole shelf of image albums. I'm surprised you didn't find them already. Here, let me up for a moment, I will go get them." Shepard mourned the loss of contact immediately, sitting up to watch as Liara walked over to the book shelf and retrieved a stack of OSDs and a reader. She returned to the couch and loaded the first disc, and Shepard watched with interest as the images began playing in "book" format, four to a screen. The first dozen or so had clearly been taken at the hospital: a prenatal sonogram, a shot of an exhausted but overjoyed-looking Liara holding newborn Solaia wrapped in a bundle of blankets, Solaia laying in an isolette and looking very unhappy about her circumstances, and a few group photos with mother, daughter and the _Normandy_ crew.

"No crest on newborn asari," Shepard noted with interest. Indeed, the future cephalic ridges were hardly more than a few bumps, practically invisible under the baby's hospital-issue knit cap. "That develops later?"

"Yes, and for a very good evolutionary reason," Liara pointed out. "Bipedal species have quite enough difficulty delivering infants with relatively smooth heads..."

Shepard's look of horror needed no explanation.

"I must admit, I was quite surprised at how ineffective other species' childbirth procedures seem to be," Liara continued. "My own labor was not pleasant, to be sure, but neither was it any torturous experience. I was in a mixed species labor and delivery unit - they set it up that way purposely, to prevent hospital-acquired infection between patients of the same species - and I was shocked at how many women treated the process as an extended trial of unspeakable pain. I never heard so many foul words in my life."

"Guess we're all the same that way," Shepard chuckled. "Go into labor, go to the hospital, scream curses at the father, and family pictures afterward, hmm?"

"Actually, hospital deliveries are quite uncommon for asari," Liara replied. "Usually the mother-to-be gives birth at home, surrounded by her family and friends. However, Solaia was something of a high-risk birth, so I decided not to take that chance--"

"High risk?"

"High risk because asari/human children are still so rare, and because 107 is a very young age to begin childbearing." Off Shepard's expression of self-recrimination, Liara laughed quietly, "And if you start blaming yourself, I will be forced to take steps to stop you. The event does require two people, after all."

"Still, I... anyway." Shepard flipped the "page," revealing more photos. "That's cute," she commented, pointing to a shot of Garrus holding Solaia, who was trying to grab at his mandibles. "What kind of baby was she? Quiet, fussy, active, calm...?"

"Solaia rarely caused any fuss, only cried if she had a reason to - tired, hungry, soiled, ill - but she was terribly inquisitive," Liara replied, pointing to another photo, in which Solaia, seated in a high chair, was covered in a greenish vegetable paste and was trying her level best to empty the contents of a bottle over her own head. "I could never leave her alone for more than a minute - she would be guaranteed to get into some kind of trouble. I can't imagine who she might have inherited _that_ trait from."

"Good question, Dr. I Don't Know What This Ancient Prothean Button Does But I'll Push It Anyway," Shepard teased back. "How about first words? Human babies usually start with 'Mama' or something like it, and I'm guessing more so for you..."

"Correct. What was much more amusing - well, amusing now, it was terribly embarrassing then - was what she started to say later. Somehow, she got it into her head that anyone with a cephalic crest was 'Dada,' it didn't matter the species - asari, turian, krogan, anyone. I took her to a crew reunion when she was just short of a year old, and she immediately grabbed onto Wrex and kept calling him 'Dada' all night..."

"Oh no," Shepard groaned. "I can see this one coming."

Liara's reply was an ironic smirk. "It did not help matters that Wrex decided to go along with the joke, saying that this was the new plan for working around the genophage. He was forever calling Solaia all kinds of pet names and sending her gifts. I think she might have been three or four before the rumor finally died out."

Shepard made a mental note to ask Ashley for the full details later. The idea of Wrex playing the doting father was too funny to pass up. "How did you manage child care? You had to have been working full time, and with a baby - that couldn't have been easy."

"I was very fortunate in that the university offers flexible scheduling, and that much of my work is child-friendly. When she was still an infant, I had a play enclosure set up in my office, and took her to work with me every day. On the occasions I could not look after her personally, I arranged for either Garrus or Ashley to watch her, or in a few rare instances, I took her to the university's day care center. Once she grew old enough to start pre-school, she went there for a half day and then came back to the university with me for the remainder."

"I'll bet she got a hell of an early education," Shepard said with a grin.

"There may be some truth to that," Liara laughed, switching the discs in the reader. Solaia, now a toddler, was sitting in front of a large desk, surrounded by stacks of OSDs. The studious image was rather ruined by the fact that she had stuck several of the discs over her fingers. "I made sure she received as much exposure to language and mathematics as possible. Everywhere we went, I would have her count things, name things, make games out of the learning. It reached a point where I had to buy her an adult translation system for her third birthday - she would switch between English, Spanish, the Palaven dialect, High Thessian and the Serrice dialect, sometimes multiple times within the same sentence, and not even know she was doing it."

Shepard whistled appreciatively. "Five languages at age three. I already knew she was smart, but-- wow."

"Her teachers all agreed that she could have skipped the first two primary grades entirely, but I wanted her to have the social exposure. That stems from my own childhood, I think... I was entirely raised at home, and I did not attend any kind of public school until I reached age twenty or so. Even then, Benezia was little inclined to let me leave our compound or to do so herself. I still wonder how much of that was the result of not wanting her shame to have a publicly visible face." Liara looked sad and a little wistful, staring off into some middle distance as she said the words, and Shepard reacted immediately, gently grasping her chin and turning the asari's head to meet her gaze.

"Don't ever believe that, Liara," she said softly. "If Benezia wanted to live like a hermit, it was because of her own issues. I refuse to believe for one instant that she ever would have been ashamed of you."

The door banged open then, breaking the tender moment. Solaia ran through the entryway, tossing her sweater across the back of a chair. "Hi Mother! Hi Dame!"

"Hey there, Sunshine," Shepard said with a grin. "Have fun at Nessa's house?"

Solaia nodded seriously. "Uh-huh. We went to the park and played hide n' seek, and then her mother took us out for ice cream, and then went back to her house and played video games."

"Sounds like a good afternoon. Come on up here."

"'Kay. Whatcha doing?" Solaia asked, climbing up the couch to nestle between the two of them.

"Looking at old pictures," Shepard replied, with a fond smile. "I asked your mom to catch me up on everything I missed when I was away. What you were like as a baby and so forth."

"It's probably really boring," Solaia commented. "Babies don't do anything, they just eat and wet and cry."

"I'm going to remember that when..." Shepard started to say teasingly, and then caught herself in mid-sentence as she realized that any discussion of grandchildren would rest a minimum of a hundred and more likely three hundred years in the future. The reminder of her own mortality hung starkly in the faces of her companion and daughter, and she swallowed hard, the jovial mood forgotten.

"And if she doesn't, I will," Liara added, breaking the tension. "Your future spouse will hear all about your profound discourses on the nature of infants."

Solaia shrugged, looking disdainful. "So what? It's true. Nessa has a baby brother and she said he's the worst."

"So, we can't sell you on a little sister, huh?" Shepard teased.

Solaia's look of horror eerily mimicked Shepard's from earlier in the afternoon, as she shook her head violently.

"There went that idea," Liara sighed, doing her best to look disappointed.

"Oh no," Shepard said with a laugh, flipping the page to a new round of images. "Okay, answer me this, o mighty archaeologist: is there any such thing as a species that _doesn't_ do naked baby pictures?"

"If there is, I have yet to hear of it," Liara replied, with a laugh of her own. The image in question depicted an infant Solaia, no more than six or eight months old by Shepard's reckoning, nude except for her diaper and sprawled prone on their bed. Her head was propped up on one pudgy fist, her legs were bent at the knees and sticking straight in the air, and she was staring directly at the camera, with a deeply thoughtful expression. Or, she might simply have had gas.

The subject of the image was considerably less amused.

"Put that _away._ Really, not funny. That's super embarrassing."

Shepard let out a snort of laughter, holding the reader just out of her daughter's reach. "What, are you kidding? I'm taking this one to work with me. Maybe I'll have it blown up and framed on the _Normandy's_ bridge."

Were it not for the pressure-sealed windows preventing sound transmission, Solaia's howl of indignation could have carried across an entire Ward arm.

* * *

Author's Notes: Okay, readers, 'fess up. Either your parents have naked baby pictures of you, or you have naked baby pictures of your own kids, or both. It really does seem to be a cultural constant.

The mechanics of asari reproduction are mostly my own invention, based upon the in-game information. (The Codex data stops at conception, but you can extrapolate from their physical appearance that they must be at least _somewhat_ mammalian.) It also makes sense from an infection control standpoint that hospitals and healthcare facilities in the _Mass Effect_ universe would be preferentially designed for mixed species occupancy; the chance of a given pathogen developing the ability to infect organisms that don't exist in its native environment is slim, to put it mildly. (Which raises the whole question of just how necessary the quarians' biohazard suits really are, but I digress...)

Solaia's multiple language competencies also have a real-life basis: human children who are exposed to multiple languages at early ages (2-7 years) retain much greater fluency, even across very dissimilar language structures, than older children or adults attempting to learn the same languages. Multilingual kids also tend to switch languages frequently, sometimes without knowledge of doing so.

Inspired by Wolf-Shadow's-Ghost's prompt on Solaia's early years. I have another WSG inspiration on tap, just because I saw a recent artwork of hers and scribbled that out first, and BioDragon's sleepover party. Suggestions are always welcome. :-)

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	5. You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

5. You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

_In which Ashley displays questionable taste in Christmas gifts._

* * *

"I still can't get my mind around it," Ashley muttered, shaking her head as she took a large sip of iced tea. "You popping the question and all. I mean, no offense, but you're already doing the family living thing..."

"There are some areas where I still respect tradition, Ash," Shepard pointed out mildly. "We both know we love each other enough to spend the rest of our-- well, my life together, anyway; I want to make sure the rest of the galaxy knows it, too. Besides," she finished with a lopsided smile, "it makes the legal and financial arrangements worlds easier."

Ashley laughed at Shepard's pragmatic assessment. "Now that sounds like the Skipper I know. So, how'd you set it up without Li getting wind of it?"

Shepard, Solaia and Ashley, the latter off duty from her posting as a Marine embassy guard, were seated in one of the Presidium's many open-air cafes, enjoying a late lunch and discussing life, love and work as though they were any group of civilian women. By rights, the entire context of the outing should have given a proper Alliance NCO etiquette nightmares. In Ashley's world, officers did not fraternize with enlisted, officers did not allow their children to fraternize with enlisted, and officers most certainly did not allow enlisted the privilege of nicknames. When the officer in question was Jane Shepard, though, all the regulations naturally flew right out the airlock - and if Ashley wanted to be honest with herself, she couldn't imagine it any other way.

"Easy," Shepard explained. "The last few days, I've been working this arms smuggling case in the financial district. It so happens that there's a jeweler that just set up shop in Barla Von's old place, and that's where I bought the ring. They just finished the setting and engraving this afternoon, so I have to go pick it up. Lucky for me, Liara is otherwise occupied with a big fundraiser cocktail thing at the university tonight. Tomorrow night, we go out to dinner - I pulled strings and got us a table at the Nebula - and the rest, hopefully, will be history."

"Nice," Ashley chuckled. "How'd you duck out of the social foo-fah?"

"She thinks I'm at a staff meeting," Shepard said. "Which, technically, I am. You were on my staff once, and this is definitely a meeting."

With a snicker, Ashley pointed out, "I might have figured you'd have been a barracks lawyer, Skipper."

Shepard laughed, and then frowned as she checked her omni-tool for the time. "Cra-- er, crumbs. I've got ten minutes to get to the financial district before the place closes. Can I ask a huge favor of you?"

"Sure, lay it on me," Ashley said.

"Can you keep an eye on Solaia for an hour or so? I just--"

"How come I can't go with you?" Solaia interjected.

"It isn't polite to interrupt," Shepard said smoothly.

"Oh. Sorry."

"I can watch her for an hour, but I have to be back at the embassy at 1800, so I might have to drop her off back at your place," Ashley warned.

Shepard thought about that for a few moments, and then looked over at Solaia. "Okay, Sunshine, you pick it. You can go to the jewelry store with me, but we'll mostly be standing around waiting, so there won't be much for you to do. Or, you can hang out with Aunt Ashley, but you have to promise that you'll be on your best behavior, and you might have to stay home by yourself for a few minutes if we end up running late. What'll it be?"

The girl's response was immediate: she grabbed Ashley's hand, with an ear to ear grin.

"And what are the rules if you're at home by yourself?"

"Lock the door, no going outside by myself, no extranet, no touching the kitchen stuff, and no junk food but fruit or veggies are okay as long as I don't spoil my supper," Solaia repeated earnestly.

"Good girl." Shepard rubbed the top of her head affectionately before picking her up for a hug and a kiss. "Thanks, Ashley. I'll owe you for this. Solaia: be good, remember your manners, Mother and I will see you at home." With that, she dashed off into the crowds, leaving the two of them standing there.

Solaia studied Ashley amusedly. "So whatta we gonna do?"

"Hmm, let's see... do homework?" Ashley said, with a conspiratorial smirk. It was a game she'd played hundreds of times with her sisters when they were all younger.

"I'm only in Grade One, we don't have homework," Solaia informed her.

"Rats. Okay... go home and clean your room?"

"Mother made me do that day before yesterday."

Ashley faked a frown. "She's taking all my good ideas. How about... sit up here and do nothing?"

Solaia made a face, speaking in a sing-song drone. "Boooor-innnng."

"Boy, tough crowd. Wait, wait, I've got a good one: go to the park and play on the structures?"

"Cool!" Solaia shouted, and then caught herself. "Oops. I didn't mean to yell."

"I won't tell if you don't," Ashley replied with a smile. "Come on, let's start walking."

* * *

"So, what did you get for Christmas?" Ashley asked some time later, as the pair sat on one of the park benches, watching swarms of children of all species running, jumping and climbing all over the play equipment. Up until a few moments previous, Solaia had been among them, until an untied shoe and the subsequent minor trip and fall had forced her to sit down and catch her breath.

"Christmas? What's that?" Solaia replied, confused.

"You don't know what _Christmas_ is? How can--" Ashley said, incredulous, and then caught herself in mid-sentence. "Oh, right. Sorry. Christmas is a traditional Earth holiday - it's supposed to be religious, but it's gotten pretty commercial--"

"I don't get it."

Ashley took a deep breath. "Okay, let's start over. In the beginning, Christmas was supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus - that's a religious figure who lived on Earth a really long time ago, like twenty-two hundred years ago--"

"That's not so long ago," Solaia interrupted. "That's like if you talked to someone who's a Matriarch now, and you asked when her mother was born, that's how old."

"Right, right," Ashley said, trying valiantly to keep track of her train of thought. "Anyway, if you're Christian, then you believe that Jesus was the son of God, and so his birthday is a very special holiday. There's a special church service for it, and it's a time when people are supposed to reunite with each other and celebrate in peace. Over the years, Christmas got to be really popular, even for people who weren't Christian, and a lot of secular - meaning it's a culture thing, not a religion thing - traditions grew up around it. People put up Christmas decorations, like trees and lights and stuff, and they buy each other presents. Specially little kids. Christmastime is when kids can ask for all kinds of presents, and if you've been good that year, at midnight on Christmas Eve, Saint Nick will come down the chimney--"

"Who's Saint Nick? And what's a chimney?"

"Never mind." Ashley smiled brightly, leading Solaia toward the nearby CRT station. "There are some cool stores in the Markets. Let's go check it out."

Half an hour later, as they stood in the Upper Wards' largest toy emporium, Ashley found herself starting to regret her decision. Taking Solaia shopping, as she had rapidly discovered, was a recipe for bankruptcy.

It wasn't that Solaia had demanded any great number of things; quite the opposite, as she hadn't outright asked for a single item. Instead, she would pick out a toy, tell Ashley about all its wondrous features, and within a few minutes, Ashley would find herself adding that toy to the basket - after all, now that she knew how "cool" or "fun" the toy was, she couldn't very well justify _not_ buying it. The basket had already been loaded with several items, including an electronics kit, a jigsaw puzzle, a set of drawing supplies, a talking Winnie the Pooh ("Ask your mother about her teddy bear sometime," Ashley had said with a conspiratorial wink), and a jump rope, and they weren't even halfway through the store.

True to form, Solaia took off again as they rounded the next corner, skidding to a halt in front of a large, brightly lit display of foam dart guns. "Oh, look, over there! The Super Sentinel Power Pop Dart Blaster! See? It's got foam darts that have sticky bits on the end, so you can have a dart battle with your friends and you can shoot the darts and they'll stick on you if you get shot and there's a special play omni-tool you can get for it that you push a button and the darts'll fall off." Solaia finally ran out of breath, pointing at the display. "Can I have that? Please?"

"No way," Ashley said immediately, studying the garishly colored toy with disdain.

"Huh," Solaia murmured, with a dejected expression. "Mother said the same thing."

"And that's because she knows better," Ashley replied. "Foam darts? You kidding me? You don't think your mama runs around capping geth with foam darts, do you?" Pointing further up the shelves to a locked case containing 'soft accelerator' replicas of various popular firearms, she continued, "Now _this_ is what I'm talking about. Accurate to fifty meters, variable muzzle velocity, shoots a hundred and twenty rounds a minute, it even comes with its own target set. If it's a rifle you want, I'll get you one of these."

Solaia's eyes grew to the size of saucers, as she stared in awe at the display. "A real rifle? Like Dame has? You mean it?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," Ashley replied, flagging down a salesperson to add the weapon to their cart. "I had one just like it when I was a little girl. I used to tie old empty cans to tree branches so they'd swing in the wind, and try to shoot them while they were moving like that. That's how I got to be an expert marksman."

"Neat."

Ashley nodded, and then her expression grew stern as she knelt down to Solaia's level. "Now, this part is very serious. You have to understand that this kind of weapon really isn't a toy. If you're not careful with it, you could hurt someone else or yourself. The number one thing you always have to remember is, don't ever aim it at anything living. Not even as a joke, not even if you think it's turned off or unloaded. Got it?"

Solaia nodded earnestly. "Never point at anything living. Got it."

"Good job." Ashley began directing their movement toward the front of the store. "And we'd better hurry up and get out of here, because it's getting late."

* * *

The Citadel University's main lecture hall had been transformed into a black-tie cocktail lounge, full of university faculty and administrators, all of whom were ardently wooing the scores of wealthy guests present. Even in dress blues, Shepard felt distinctly out of place as she took up station at the back of the room. A familiar form graced the podium, and she paused to listen, smiling to herself as she recognized the words she'd heard rehearsed before the bathroom mirror that same morning.

"...Thanks to the endowed research funds available to our department, we were able to open a hitherto unexplored dig site in the Attican Traverse. Already this location has yielded several amazing finds, including remarkably well preserved Prothean living quarters, data caches and personal effects. With these new discoveries and others that are sure to come, we believe we are on the cusp of a major breakthrough in our understanding of Prothean life and culture - lessons we can all apply to our own lives, bringing the past and the present into focus together. Thank you all for your kindness and generosity."

Enthusiastic applause rang through the gathering space as Liara left the podium, trading places with the university director. "As you can see, this is just the barest sample of the fine research and education we at the U conduct every day, so we truly appreciate all the help that you fine people give us in making these dreams reality..."

Liara excused herself from the throng of patrons and made her way over to Shepard, who was leaning casually against one of the large pillars. The kiss they shared was probably a bit too long for public display, but neither of them particularly cared as Liara released Shepard to arm's length. "I did not think you would get here in time."

"Meeting got out a little earlier than I anticipated," Shepard said with a smirk. The ring, in its presentation box, was safely hidden in her right trousers pocket. "What I saw of your speech was great."

Liara flushed a slightly deeper shade of cerulean at the compliment. "Of course, you would not be biased in the slightest - but thank you. Where is Solaia?"

"I asked Ashley to watch her while I was busy," Shepard said. It had the added benefit of being one version of the truth. "She had to go back on duty at 1800, so she said she'd drop Solaia back home before going to the embassy."

"It is too bad that I missed her," Liara mused. If anything, Liara was still closer to Ashley than Shepard herself, given the years that the Marine had been Liara's friend and protector in Shepard's absence. "I shall have to give her a call."

It was a short ride on the CRT from the university to their apartment block, and Shepard whistled snatches of popular music as they exited the car. "I don't know about you, but I cannot wait for the weekend," Shepard sighed in the elevator on their way up.

"This is true," Liara agreed, as she unlocked the front door. The apartment was strangely quiet as they stepped inside. "Solaia? Where are--" she called, and then her sentence abruptly ended in a traumatized half-gasp, half-scream.

Alarmed, Shepard ran out to the living room. "What's wrong? Everyone OK?"

Liara managed to break her state of shock long enough to choke out, "By the Goddess--"

The room had been reduced to a shambles. Scores of BB-sized pockmarks marred the walls, ceiling and doors. The couch sported several rips, springs and stuffing protruding through the wrecked upholstery. Broken glass and ceramic marked the remains of bowls, statuettes and other pieces of home decor. Shepard's desk, now missing a leg, leaned precariously against the wall, while the remains of her computer terminal sparked sullenly on the floor nearby. A plastic cup, now perforated beyond all recognition, swung gently from where it had been tied to the back of a chair. In the midst of the destruction stood Solaia, clutching a pellet rifle and wearing a sunny grin.

Shepard just winced, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. "What happened here, young lady?" she said, in what she thought was a supremely calm tone given the circumstances.

"Me n' Aunt Ashley went shopping 'cause she said there's this big holiday called Christmas where kids are s'posed to get presents, and look what she got me! I can knock a cup off the back of the couch from across the room! See, you just--"

"No, you don't have to demonstrate. Give me that, please." Confiscating the weapon, Shepard continued, "Look carefully at this room. You see holes in the walls, the couch, the desk, my computer, all of your mother's nice things. They're all broken, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"As a result of you shooting in the house."

"Uh-huh."

"At some point, did you start to suspect that what you were doing might be a bad idea?"

Solaia shook her head no, and pointed to the sole survivor of the carnage, a potted African violet on the window sill. "But I did just like Aunt Ashley said – don't ever point at anything _living..._"

* * *

Author's Notes: Oops. Maybe Ashley should have said "don't ever aim at anything _you don't want to destroy_" instead...

This one came from my own life experience. I received a junior-sized compound bow from one of my uncles as a Christmas gift at age eight (those were the days when bows, BB arms and the like were considered "good clean fun" rather than potentially lethal weapons). Having only dealt with suction-cup toy "bow and arrow sets" prior to that point, it never occurred to me that attaching the included target to the back door of our house might be a Bad Idea. However, it only took me one fired arrow to very quickly teach myself a new skill: removing the arrow and filling the hole with wood putty before Mom noticed something awry.

Title credit goes to _A Christmas Story_ and the infamous Red Ryder BB Rifle. Inspiration credit goes to Wolf-Shadow's-Ghost and her artwork "All My Playthings." The Winnie the Pooh and the jigsaw puzzle from that piece re-appear here.

BioDragon's pajama party is up next - if Solaia ever gets out of being grounded, that is...

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!


	6. One Flu Over The Cuckoo's Nest

6. One Flu Over The Cuckoo's Nest

_In which "the bug that's going around" comes around to the T'Soni-Shepard household._

_

* * *

_

Shepard sighed with relief as she walked through her front door, dropping her duffel bag in the entryway and collapsing gratefully on the couch. The _Normandy_ had been deployed as part of an Alliance fleet-wide exercise against a simulated batarian incursion, and the event, to put it mildly, had not gone well. Try as she might, Shepard just couldn't quite understand why the brass would do something as stupid as deploy a squad of handpicked special operatives and one of the galaxy's only known stealth ships to direct fighter movements behind their own combat front, and then leave her there for a week while the "friendly" ground forces walked into a maelstrom of "aggressor" ambushes, precision strikes and booby-traps. "What a joke," she muttered to herself. "Take a Spectre and make her an interstellar traffic cop. Bloody brilliant. For two credits I'd tell Mikhailovich to take his 63rd Scout Flotilla and shove it up his--"

The door clicked open, interrupting Shepard in mid-curse, and a rather softer thud signaled the arrival of another backpack tossed next to her own. "Dame! You're home!"

Solaia sprinted into the family room, and Shepard was right there to catch her, picking her up and spinning her around. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

"Me too," Solaia murmured against her neck. "It's no fun when you go away."

Shepard's reply was nonverbal, a nod and a somewhat tighter hug, as she returned Solaia to her own two feet and dropped back down to the couch.

"Did you get the bad guys?"

"They were fake bad guys this time - it was an exercise," Shepard replied. "We didn't get them as well as I might have liked, but we did get them in the end." _And no thanks to that dumbass Mikhailovich, that man couldn't command his way out of a wet paper bag,_ she added with a mental snort of disdain.

"That's good. 'Cause it'd be really bad if the bad guys won."

Shepard couldn't argue with that. "So what'd you do while I was gone?"

Solaia grinned, ticking points off on her fingers. "Got a hundred on my math test two days ago an' a ninety-five in science today. Me n' Mother... no, Mother and I went to the show last night n' saw the new Galaxy Quest, an' it was okay. Not as good as the first one though. Had tryouts for inner-moral... inner-murr--"

"Intramural?" Shepard guessed.

"Yeah, that. Inner-mural football. There's three other kids n' me who's gonna be goalies." A yawn punctuated her recital. "I'm sleepy."

"No wonder, it sounds like you wore yourself out," Shepard replied. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll wake you up when it's dinner time."

Solaia picked up one of the throw pillows and laid it against Shepard's thigh, curling up and closing her eyes. Within a few minutes, she was sound asleep. Shepard smiled and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch to cover her, allowing her left arm to drape protectively across her shoulders as she did so.

It wasn't until three hours later, during which Shepard had completed the vast majority of her after-action paperwork, that Solaia stirred again. "Hey, Sunshine," Shepard said, rubbing the top of the girl's head. "You conked out there."

Solaia nodded, blinking blearily up at her dame. "I don't think I wanna go to school tomorrow," she said, drawing out the words. "I don't feel good. I got a tummy ache."

Shepard tilted her head to one side, with a lopsided smile. _Ah, the classic too-sick-for-school dodge,_ she thought. Solaia's protestation of illness sounded exactly like what she might have said as a child to duck out of homework or a test. "Okay, if you're that sick, but you'll have to go to bed till dinnertime, and you can't have the 'net tonight, either."

"Okay."

Shepard's smirk changed into a frown. Solaia didn't go to bed willingly unless she was exhausted, and the fact that she was doing so after a three-hour nap raised even more red flags. Giving up her extranet time was the icing on the cake.

"All right, go brush your teeth and put your pajamas on," she said. "I'll go get you some medicine and then tuck you in."

As Solaia disappeared into the bathroom, Shepard headed for the kitchen. One of the cabinets by the refrigerator was locked with a thumb plate, and she printed it open, revealing containers of medi-gel, antibiotics and antivirals, pain killers, toxin antidotes - all the medical supplies a Spectre could need or want. She selected a container of pediatric-formula pain and fever medication, shaking out one of the bright orange chewable tablets and locking the cabinet before fetching a glass of fruit juice to go with it.

"Still feeling sick?" Shepard asked, as she walked into Solaia's bedroom.

"Uh-huh. My arms n' legs hurt too now." She pointed to Shepard's closed hand. "What's that?"

"Pain medicine, and some juice to wash it down," Shepard said, holding out her offerings. Solaia took the tablet and crunched down on it, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Good job." Shepard pulled the covers up to Solaia's chin, rubbing a thumb along her cheekbone before kissing the top of her head. "Hope you feel better, kiddo. I'll be right out here in the den if you need anything."

An hour later, Shepard was finishing the last of her reports when the door lock clicked open again. "Jane? Is that you?"

"Hi, love. Shh." Shepard jerked a thumb in the direction of Solaia's room. Their welcome-home embrace was no less passionate for the silence, though.

"Where is she?" Liara took the hint, dropping her voice to a murmur as she released Shepard to arm's length.

"She's asleep. I think she's coming down with something," Shepard whispered, folding her arms over her chest. "She came home and crashed on the couch for three hours - you tell me how often _that_ happens - and she says she's got pain in her joints and a stomach ache. I gave her a children's analgesic and put her to bed about an hour ago, and she hasn't moved since."

"Oh dear," Liara said, a concerned note in her voice. "Do you think I should call the pediatrician?"

Shepard shrugged in reply. "Not sure. I'm apt to think it's just the bug that's going around, but if she gets any sicker..."

"Wait and see, then." Liara folded her arms in emulation of Shepard's posture, and one could almost see the wheels turning in her head. "In any event, she won't be going to school tomorrow, so one of us will have to stay home with her. I only have one seminar and then office hours; I will call and see if one of the graduate assistants can cover for me..."

"It's okay, I'll handle it," Shepard replied. "I can work from home tomorrow, and besides, asari germs won't infect a human. No sense in having you sick too."

"You're sure?"

Shepard nodded once. "Positive."

"All right. I will still plan to get home early." Liara took a deep breath, and then walked into Solaia's room. "Little one? Are you awake?"

"Hi, Mama," Solaia said, sitting up in bed with a weak smile. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, making the green in her irises duller for lack of contrast.

"You haven't called me that in a long time," Liara replied gently. "How are you feeling?"

Solaia shook her head, sniffling. "Don't feel good. I hurt all over. And I'm freezing cold."

Liara pressed the back of her hand to her daughter's forehead, and frowned as it came away warm. "You're running a fever. Dame said she gave you medicine?"

"Uh-huh."

"That should help, then. Do you think you can eat some soup, or maybe toast?"

Solaia thought about that for a moment. "Chicken soup. But no noodles."

Liara glanced up at Shepard, who nodded and smiled. "One bowl of noodle-less chicken soup, coming right up."

As Shepard disappeared into the kitchen, Solaia looked up at Liara with an imploring expression. "I don't gotta go to school tomorrow, do I?"

Liara decided to let the error slide; for as sick as she appeared, Solaia was entitled to a few grammatical lapses. "No, I will call the school office and tell them you are ill."

Solaia's reply was a nod, as she burrowed back down into the pillows with a squeak of pain.

"Are you all right?"

A muffled voice emerged from beneath the comforter. "Cold. It hurts."

"That we can fix," Shepard added, returning with a steaming bowl of chicken broth. "Soup will warm you right up. Want to try eating?"

Solaia sat up and gamely took a few sips, and then shook her head; her face had turned a distinct shade of aquamarine. "I think I'm gonna chuck."

Shepard handed the bowl off to Liara, picked Solaia up and headed for the bathroom, and not a moment too soon, as the initial heaves started just as she set her down in front of the commode. Within a minute, the remains of what might once have been chicken soup, fruit juice, and a school lunch were no more. Shepard knelt next to her on the cold tile, wetting a washcloth in cool water and wiping the worst of the vomit off her mouth and nose as she continued to retch.

"I'm sorry," Solaia sniffled, with one last gagging noise, as Liara stepped into the bathroom. With a gulping sob, she bolted into her mother's arms, beginning to cry. "I feel awful."

"Hush, little one, it's all right," Liara whispered soothingly, uncaring of the mucus and other fluids that were soaking into her shirt sleeve. "It is not your fault that you are ill. No one would ever blame you for that."

The two adults exchanged dismayed looks over the top of their daughter's head. These would be a rough few days.

* * *

"What I wouldn't give for a thousand-year lifespan," Shepard groaned as she stared at the stacks of OSDs piled on the kitchen table. All of the disks contained textbooks, with titles like _Foundations of Pediatric Medicine, Vol. II - Asari; Pediatric Infectious Diseases; Nursing Care of Infants and Children; _and _Current Topics in Asari Microbiology._ Ever the prepared commander, she had used Liara's faculty access and her own recognizance to raid the Citadel University's medical library, the better to learn how to care for her sick child. However, several hours into her day, she was starting to suspect that she'd bitten off more than her share. "I might be able to make heads and tails of this stuff by the time I hit 900 or so..."

Her omni-tool chimed then, warning her that its timer function had elapsed. Shepard reached for a nearby notepad, on which she had graphed out her entire schedule for their day - temperature checks and medication administration every six hours, attempts at feeding every four, rest and comfort care around the clock. She checked off the 1200 medication and temperature box, and headed down the hall, where one door was marked with a hand-drawn paper sign: "Solaia's Room. Top Secret. Friends Only. (and Mother and Dame). This Means You."

Shepard knocked twice on the bedroom door and poked her head inside. Solaia was sitting up in bed and playing a handheld video game, though her mind clearly wasn't on the game scenario, as the on-screen avatar fell into a trap and died in short order. "Hi Dame," she said listlessly.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Threw up again," Solaia muttered. "An' now I'm burning hot."

That would be the fever talking, Shepard knew. "Okay, so scratch toast off the list of foods you can keep down," she said with forced levity. "Poor Sunshine, at the rate you're going there'll be nothing left of you but a little puddle of puke."

Solaia managed to muster up a partial smile, but it was clearly a strain.

"Anyway, it's time for another temperature and medicine. Open up."

As she held the thermometer in place, Shepard commented, "I called your pediatrician's office earlier to see what they had to say about you being so sick." The device beeped, and its display blinked 39.7.

"What'd they say?"

Shepard shrugged in reply. "Get lots of rest and drink lots of water and juice, and it'll go away by itself." Which, the Spectre thought, was some of the more unhelpful health advice she'd heard in recent history. Although her medical skills were largely limited to battlefield first aid, Shepard suspected that Solaia's illness wasn't going to abate itself with a day of rest and fluids - especially if the illness precluded her from resting or taking fluids. "Tell you what: I'm going to call a doctor friend of mine. Maybe she can tell me something that'll help you better."

Solaia's reply was a weak nod and an "mm-hm" as she went back to her video game.

Back in the den, Shepard activated her omni-tool, accessing the household directory. Tapping up another communicator code, she waited for the ping of the connection going through. "Captain Shepard speaking. Put me through to Dr. Chakwas' office, please?"

_"One moment,"_ the operator replied. A few seconds later, a distinctive British-accented voice echoed across the line. _"Surgery, Chakwas speaking."_

"Leah? It's Jane Shepard, how are you?"

_"Doing quite well, thank you," _the _Normandy's_ former CMO said with an affectionate chuckle. _"To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

"Not so much a pleasure, but an advice call," Shepard replied. "I need to pick your brain on sick kids. Solaia's home from school today, she's got some kind of stomach bug and a fever, plus the usual nose and throat crap..."

_"Ooh dear. And the poor tot's miserable, no doubt." _Chakwas sighed in sympathy. _"There's a horrid flu going about this year. I do hope that isn't what she's got."_

"I've got a sneaking suspicion it is, but what do I know," Shepard said. "Any ideas on what I can do to make her more comfortable?"

_"I assume you're treating her symptoms with over the counter remedies?"_

"Right. We've got children's pain and fever stuff and decongestant, but it doesn't seem to do a whole lot for her, and I don't dare go over the dosing recommendations."

_"And right you are. I'd be hesitant to use those back of the box doses at all, honestly. Pediatric medications are dosed very carefully, not the take-two-and-call-me formula we use with adults. Children simply haven't the tolerances that we do. One child's therapeutic dose can just as easily be another's overdose."_

"I figured as much. Glad I was on the right track." Shepard paused for a moment, fiddling with a note pad. "I just don't know what else to do for her. I talked to the nurse at the pediatrician's office, and she said not to worry, it'll sort itself and besides, they wouldn't be able to see her today anyway. I don't know if I should take her over to the urgent-care clinic, or the hospital - anyway, I'd have to talk to Liara first on that score..."

Chakwas began to chuckle at the Spectre's commentary. _"We needn't talk about hospitalization at this point, but the best I can tell you is precisely what your pediatrician already said. Even with the best of modern medicine, we still haven't any more of a cure for influenza now than we had two hundred years ago. There are antivirals of course, but we'd need to test first to determine what pathogen we're dealing with. Rest and clear fluids tend to be our mainstays of therapy. I'm sorry there isn't more I can do to help you."_

"That's all right. It was worth the effort. Listen, we both would still love to have you over to dinner sometime. Let me know when your schedule is free."

_"Sounds lovely. I shall look forward to it."_ Chakwas clicked off the connection, leaving Shepard to ponder her next move.

Lost in thought, Shepard missed the click of the door opening, as well as the soft footfalls that heralded Liara's return home. She whirled instinctively when she sensed another presence behind her, her hands coming up into a close-quarters battle stance before she saw blue eyes looking at her in surprise. "I would not want to be a thief who attempted to burgle this home," Liara said amusedly as Shepard dropped the combat posture with a huff of air.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I was off goldbricking; I never heard you come in. You startled me, that's all."

With a laugh, Liara stepped forward to enfold her companion in her arms, but Shepard waved her off. "As much as I'd love to hold you, I suspect I'm contaminated," she said, though the frustrated, wounded look in her eyes belied her glib tone. "Let me take a shower first, and then I'm yours."

"I understand," Liara replied, taking a step back. "How was she today?"

"In my not-so-learned medical opinion, I think she's got the flu," Shepard deadpanned. "Stuffy nose, cough, fever and muscle aches. And that children's pain and fever stuff is garbage, by the way. I've been giving her one tablet every six hours just like the box says, and I haven't been able to get her temperature below 39.5 all day. I called the pediatrician's office and talked to the nurse, who's a complete airhead but that's beside the point, and I also talked to Leah Chakwas about it, and they both said don't go over the box, so we're dead-ended there."

"We could try putting her in a cool bath," Liara suggested. "That used to work quite well when she was an infant."

"I always thought that was just an old wives' tale, but it can't hurt," Shepard replied, with a lopsided quirk of the lip, not quite a smile. Her expression reverted to its previous grave set as she continued speaking. "I just feel so bad for her. You know how she is, always go-go-go, so it's hard on her. We're not even 24 hours into this and she's absolutely sick and tired of feeling like poop and being cooped up in the house because of it. Poor kid."

"What about her stomach trouble?"

"Threw up four times since this morning. Nothing substantial stays down - toast, soup, juice, fruit, it's all instant puke. She's keeping down ice chips and sips of very heavily diluted tea, and that's about it."

"That would be adequate for fluid replenishment, but it does not remedy the energy imbalance - she will have to take some form of nourishment," Liara mused.

"I know, she needs to get some calories onboard, I just don't know what she can keep down." Shepard turned her palms upward, a gesture of helplessness. "Any ideas?"

Liara remained silent for several seconds, with a puzzled expression on her features. "Rice cereal? Tapioca?"

"Rice cereal, maybe." An idea occurred to Shepard just then. "What about that battle-ade stuff?" she asked, referring to the specialized replenishment drink issued to Alliance combat biotics. "It's got sugar, protein, electrolytes--"

"--And it tastes like liquid death," Liara finished, shuddering at the memory, as Shepard dug through the locked cabinets to find several pre-prepared bottles of the drink. "If she does not vomit from her illness, she will be guaranteed to do so from the flavor."

"Can't be _that_ bad," the Spectre chuckled. Cracking a bottle open, she took an experimental sip of the concoction and then shrugged. "No worse than mess hall bug juice. Tastes like fake fruit punch, that's all--" Abruptly she grimaced as the aftertaste of sodium, amino acids and what the package referred to as 'natural and artificial flavorant' hit. "Oh my word. That's nasty."

Liara's only response was a faint, _I told you so_ smile.

"Okay, so we're back to ice chips..."

* * *

Much later that night, the sounds of coughing and sniffling woke Shepard out of a light, restless doze. Instinctively she glanced at the bedside clock, whose glowing face displayed 0115. Moving carefully so as not to wake Liara, she crawled out of bed and pulled on a bathrobe, padding out into the hallway. She peered into Solaia's room, and in the dim spill of light from the night-lamp, she could just make out a quivering lump in the middle of the bed.

"You okay, kiddo? I heard you coughing," she whispered.

Solaia poked her head over the top of the covers. "I cad't seep, Dabe. I cad't breed ad I'b code."

"You're probably due for another dose of medicine," Shepard replied. The illness had worsened, she noted; Solaia's voice had taken on a severe nasal slur, and her eyes were slightly sunken, with a dull, glassy sheen. "Gotta take your temperature first though, okay?"

Solaia did as she was told, placing the thermometer under her own tongue while Shepard held it in place.

The thermometer beeped five seconds later, and its display flashed 40.3 degrees. Shepard bit back a curse as an image flashed into her head: standing at attention on the grinder under the broiling sun of Camp Macapa, she and seventy-one other recruits chugging the contents of their canteens in unison and inverting the empty containers over their heads. A fellow recruit had failed to consume his entire ration. Two hours later, she had stared into those same glassy eyes as the man halted halfway up the ropes course, and watched in sickening slow motion as he lost his grip and hit the safety net at the bottom. The corpsmen had carried him away on a stretcher, sporting a large IV bag; he had been "exit-cycled" shortly thereafter, brain damaged as a result of dehydration and heat stroke.

"How's the stuffy nose? Do you want some cough medicine too?"

"Doedn't burk. Id' dill duffy."

"I know, kiddo," Shepard said comfortingly. "The medicine doesn't make it go away, it just makes it a little better. That's the trouble with flu: there really isn't much you can do for it except to get lots of rest, drink lots of fluids, and wait it out. How are you doing with the ice chips?"

Solaia shook her head. "Doo code. Bake by 'ead ad tubby 'urt."

_This is going from bad to worse,_ Shepard thought, _if even ice chips are causing her problems._ "You have to try, though. We've got to get some fluids into you, or else you'll get dehydrated and have to go to the hospital."

"Bud I cad't. Id _'urts,_ Dabe, id 'urts." The child was on the verge of tears, curling herself into a ball and beginning to rock back and forth.

Shepard winced, feeling utterly powerless. Her little girl was sick and she couldn't do a thing about it. "Oh, kiddo, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel good. I wish I could make it all better for you..."

"I doh," Solaia mumbled, trying and failing to smile.

"You want me to stay with you for a little while? Till you fall asleep, at least?"

Solaia needed no further encouragement, burrowing into Shepard's open arms and burying her head in her left shoulder. Shepard wondered briefly if it was a family trait, or if that shoulder was just particularly comfortable for asari heads to rest against.

Pushing that thought aside, she pulled the feverish little form tightly into her arms and began to sing quietly. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray..."

Half an hour later, Shepard emerged from the bedroom, a deep furrow etched into her forehead. Liara was standing in the hallway, and she frowned as she took in Shepard's expression. "Is she any better?"

"No, she's worse. The fever's still sky high, she's refusing ice chips now, and she's got that dehydrated look." Shepard rubbed her temples, feeling the telltale pulsing that heralded a migraine. "I think we might be looking at a trip over to Four Kids."

"Define sky high?"

"Forty point three."

Liara blinked twice, swallowed once. "That is quite high enough. I will get her things; you call for transport."

* * *

"If you keep pacing that floor, you will wear a hole through the carpet."

Considering the bright primary colors and loud checker pattern of the carpet in question, perhaps being worn through by a nervous parent would be a mercy. Ward Four Children's Hospital, known throughout the Citadel community as Four Kids, was a squat, aggressively ugly collection of buildings at the far end of its ward arm. The hospital's lack of decor belied its renown, though, as it boasted one of the best multi-species pediatrics facilities to be found in Citadel Space. At this late hour, the waiting room was largely deserted; only a few families huddled on the hard plastic benches.

The C-Sec emergency services vehicle had dropped the three of them at the hospital emergency center in record time, where the triage nurse, recognizing a sick child when she saw one, had immediately whisked Solaia back to the treatment area on a stretcher. That left Shepard and Liara to cool their heels in the waiting room, pretending to watch the entertainment vid-feeds, pretending that they weren't worried sick about their daughter, and pretending not to jump every time someone in medical uniform exited the triage doors.

Shepard paused in mid-stride, turning weary, angry eyes on her companion. "Beats sitting on my ass doing nothing."

"And what you are doing right now is simply a more energy-intensive form of nothing," Liara pointed out. "Jane, will you please sit down?"

"I can't," Shepard snapped. "It just reinforces how fu-- how powerless I feel right now."

"Then will you do it to keep me company?"

Shepard swallowed hard, disgusted at her own selfishness, as she heard the pleading note in Liara's voice. She let out a sigh, dropping onto the bench beside Liara and resting her head against one hand. The angry, nervous tension throbbed in the background, leaving sour adrenaline in its wake. "I hate this," she muttered. "One, I hate doctors. One and a half, if there's one thing I hate worse than doctors, it's hospitals. Two, I can't quite come to grips with the fact that our little girl is hospital-grade sick and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it. Which brings me to three, I absolutely, positively detest when the people I love are in any form of danger." She took a deep breath, dragging a hand through her hair. "And I'm scared out of my mind that this won't all be okay in the end. That _she_ might not be okay. That something might happen, or she won't get better, and wouldn't it just be another kick in the ass courtesy of the fates, because I don't exactly have a really great track record with families as it is, and I simply would not be able to live with myself if it happened again... if... if I lost this too..."

"I have the same fears; I am simply quieter about expressing them," Liara said softly, tracing soothing patterns over Shepard's back, gently rubbing the strain out of the rigid muscles. "There is nothing more we can do. We just have to wait and trust that the doctors will be able to treat her."

Intellectually, Shepard knew that was true, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "I... I know it's not rational, but I feel like it's my fault. Like I failed, like I didn't try hard enough to help her get better. I can save a galaxy from geth, batarians, the Reapers and probably God Himself if I really work at it, but I can't defeat something as simple as a virus. I keep thinking that I could have done something more."

Liara looked at her sharply. "Is that true? Was there anything else you could have done? Any care you might have withheld or neglected?"

Shepard shook her head forcefully no. "God knows I'm no doctor, but logically, I can't think of anything else I could have done for her. I just feel like it."

"Then you have your answer." Liara tugged gently on her shoulder, encouraging her to lean back into comforting arms. "Do you remember when you first returned, when I told you that I had no doubts about your ability to raise a family?" Off Shepard's silent nod of assent, she continued, "You never accept anything less than the best for the people you care for. I know that; it is one of the thousands of reasons why I love you. I also know that you are not perfect, and I do not expect you to be. I only ask that you do not close yourself off to me. Can you accept that?"

Shepard nodded again, feeling terribly drained. "You're right. I'm sorry, Liara. I didn't mean to lash out."

"I know. You always work so hard to take care of us. Let me take care of you."

Too tired to resist, Shepard allowed Liara to pull her down into a half-reclining position, her head landing in the asari's lap. She dropped off to sleep almost immediately thereafter.

It might have been hours or minutes before a voice addressed them both. "You're waiting for Solaia T'Soni-Shepard?"

Shepard roused herself instantly, as they both looked up to see a salarian, dressed in the white tunic and trousers of hospital staff. "Yes, we're her parents. You are?"

"I'm Dr. Varsarais, I'm one of the pediatricians on call here tonight. You'll forgive me if I skip the usual pleasantries. Few adults and fewer children enjoy meeting me professionally, and I see no reason to pretend otherwise."

Shepard couldn't argue with that, even if the doctor's bedside manner left something to be desired. "Is Solaia all right?"

The doctor nodded enthusiastically. "She'll be fine; we're giving her intravenous fluids, fever medication and anti-nausea medication, and we gave her a breathing treatment to get her airways back open. She'll be ready to go home in about two hours or so, as soon as the IV finishes running."

"What did she contract that made her so ill?" Liara asked.

"There's a particularly virulent flu going around this year, and she's got it. You did the right thing, to bring her in when you did. 40 is usually the temperature cutoff when we start admitting sick children to the hospital, and dehydration doesn't help. Luckily we were able to break the fever, and she's well out of the woods in terms of both the infection and her fluid balance, so there's no point to her staying here."

"As long as she'll be all right," Shepard said. "What should we do to take care of her at home?"

Dr. Varsarais blinked solemnly, steepling his fingers under his chin. "Rest and fluid intake are the most important things. Clear liquids only for the next 48 hours, then gradually go back to her usual diet. If she will tolerate electrolyte replacement solution, great. If not, give her whatever she can keep down. We've had good luck with that human soft drink, 'ginger ale'; it's junk calories, but it's usually well tolerated. I'm going to write her a couple of prescriptions. The nausea medication is a liquid, you give that three times daily on an empty stomach. The antiviral is twice daily, and make sure she completes the entire course. I could prescribe something for the fever too, but frankly the children's over-the-counter stuff works just as well."

"We were giving her that at home," Shepard commented, as Liara added, "The medication is the same; why did it not work then?"

"You gave her one tablet every six hours like it said to on the package, right?" Off their nods, Dr. Varsarais continued, "Those dosing recommendations are always skewed to the low end of effective, to avoid accidental overdose. In her case it wasn't enough. You're right that we use the same medication, just a different dosing regimen. It's nothing you did wrong or would have known about."

Shepard winced, groaning in frustration. "Damnit, I asked her pediatrician's nurse and a doctor friend of mine about that, and they both said leave it alone..."

Dr. Varsarais looked at them archly. "I'm sure they would. Would _you_ want the liability of telling a parent how to potentially overdose her child?"

"That's all in the past now," Liara replied, moving the conversation past the potential sore point, as Shepard chimed in. "Can we see her?"

"Of course, she's been asking for you both. Follow me."

They followed the physician back through the doors and to an isolation room. Within, Solaia was propped upright on a hospital gurney, sporting a nasal cannula for oxygen and an intravenous line connected to a liter bag of bright yellow rehydration solution. "Mother! Dame!" she shouted, her words punctuated by a barking cough. "Sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It kinda hurts anyway."

Raised voices indoors were the last things on anyone's minds, as both Shepard and Liara moved to the bedside, folding their daughter into an extended three-way embrace. They stayed that way for several minutes, not wanting to relinquish their grip on each other.

"Are you feeling any better?" Shepard queried, as all three finally let go quite some time later.

"Uh-huh. That's all they do here is make sick kids feel better," Solaia said earnestly. "The doctors n' nurses are super nice an' the one nurse, she had to give me an IV an' I thought it was gonna hurt 'cause it looked like the biggest shot you ever saw, like a million times bigger than the shots they have at the doctor, but it didn't hurt at all! Besides, it wasn't near as bad as some of the other kids, there was a boy who got hit by a CRT an' he was all casted up like a mummy--"

"I do believe she is cured," Liara chuckled as she listened to the verbal torrent.

Shepard simply nodded, exhausted by the ordeal, but grateful for every second of its resolution.

* * *

Ever since the three of them had begun their lives together, weekday mornings in the T'Soni-Shepard household had always followed a regular schedule. Shepard awakened first at 0500, completed her morning exercise regimen, and then made tea and breakfast in time for Liara to rouse an hour later. Liara, in turn, would pack all their lunches and get Solaia out of bed at 0700, in time for Shepard to drop her off at school at 0745.

The second alarm went off at 0600, as it did every morning. Groggy from the previous night's lack of sleep, Liara blinked herself awake, sitting up and stretching a bit. To her surprise, her hand struck a large lump on the right side of the bed. She peeled the blankets away, revealing Shepard still half-asleep and curled into a fetal ball.

"Jane, it's past six. Don't you think you should be up?"

Shepard rolled over slowly, staring at her beloved through bleary, bloodshot eyes. "I dod't tink I'b goig adyware doday..."

* * *

Author's Notes: Of course, what Shepard failed to recognize was that whatever infected Solaia stood a 50/50 chance of being _human_ flu...

Written in honor of A/H1N1 making it to the Big Time, of course. Influenza is actually one of the nastier viral infections around, in terms of yearly morbidity and mortality; the Spanish flu pandemic in 1918 claimed around 20 million deaths, and seasonal flu accounts for about half a million deaths per year and uncounted billions of dollars in time off work and lost productivity globally.

Just as her last name is an anagram of "hacksaw," Dr. Chakwas' imagined first name here is an anagram of "heal." "Bloodshot" eyes on an asari would look very light blue, not pink as in a human - asari blood is blue, as mentioned in the Dr. Saleon mission (the bloodstains on the walls are "pale blue, violet, orange, and more than a few dark red"). Hence, the usual color contrasts would be reversed: browns and hazels would look more distinct, blues and greens less so.

Pediatric medications, particularly with children age 12 and under, are always dosed on weight or body surface area - we hardly ever give sick kids a one-off pill, as is commonly done with adults. Oral rehydration therapy is a mainstay for the vomiting child, but half the battle is convincing the child to actually drink the stuff. It's essentially water, dextrose, sodium and potassium with fake tutti-frutti flavor added, and the flavor is, in a word, nasty. For readers not familiar with Celsius temperatures, 40.3 C equates to 104.5 Fahrenheit - a critically high fever, no matter which species.

That's European football, a/k/a soccer, that Solaia tried out for and will be playing at school. Shepard as a soccer mom ought to be highly amusing...

Thank you all for reading!


	7. The Facts of Life

7. The Facts of Life

_In which avian and insectile species are discussed, and Shepard develops a few more gray hairs._

* * *

_"That was 'Ocean Breeze,' the new hit single from Arthur and the Babel Fish. Coming up, your local news, and then it's another hour of your favorite hits from across the galaxy..."_

Artificial sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Citadel Wards apartment, and the entertainment system was on, tuned to the local popular music station. In the living room, Liara was working with a hand sander, smoothing over the repair material she had applied to the walls the night before. Solaia had been detailed to prime the sanded patches, in preparation for fresh paint, which Shepard had gone to purchase.

"This is super unfair," Solaia grumbled as she primed over a patched pockmark. "It's been _three weeks._ How come I'm still fixing stuff?"

Liara regarded her daughter over the tops of her safety glasses. "You missed a week being ill," she replied. "As for the fairness of your punishment, it is perfectly fair to expect that you repair the damage you caused. Considering the extent and cost of what was destroyed, three weeks' grounding is actually quite generous. We did not stop your allowance, nor did we pull you out of after-school, nor did we dispose of the pellet rifle. I fail to see how we could have been any fairer."

Solaia didn't look convinced. "Still stinks."

"It was your decision to break the rules. You have no one to fault but yourself."

"I _did_ follow the rules, I can't help it if the rules are bad," Solaia muttered.

"That is why you must learn to think and judge such situations for yourself," Liara replied, a touch of sternness in her tone. "The presence or absence of a rule is no excuse for the actions that you might take, if those actions turn out to be wrong. Even if one rule permitted shooting at inanimate objects, you should have considered that you might damage or destroy those objects or others nearby, and that indiscriminate destruction would break other rules."

"But Aunt Ashley was the one who gave me the gun and made up a bad rule. It's a little her fault too. How come she isn't fixing the living room?"

With a faint smile, Liara replied, "She is being punished also, just in a different manner..."

* * *

Thousands of light-years away, the subject of the conversation sat as the lone passenger on a base bus, traversing the causeways that made up the majority of Alliance Recruit Depot Macapa's road system. Although the clock only read 0620, the temperature had already begun its daily climb, and the antiquated vehicle's air conditioner struggled to keep up with the muggy heat. As a recruit, she had wondered how the drill instructors always managed to keep that perfectly starched appearance under 42-degree temperatures and 100% humidity. Now, she knew it was a carefully choreographed act, one requiring no less than four uniform changes a day.

The first few rays of tropical sunshine lit up the interior of the bus, and she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. She had to admit that the traditional drill instructor's uniform of working blues and campaign hat suited her, but the circumstances that led to her obtaining this billet were somewhat less prestigious. An old adage popped into her mind: _To err is human, to forgive is divine. Neither is official Marine Corps policy._ "And ain't that the truth," she muttered to her reflection.

The transport dropped her outside the camp rifle range, where the sharp pops of mass accelerator fire crackled on the air. A small part of her soul wept for shame as she saw the mass of recruits, seventy-two in all, lined up in a ragged block on the grinder. Most still sported adolescent acne, all were shaven-headed, all wore ill-fitting camouflage blouses and trousers, and the entire group looked like they might have been able to pool half a dozen brain cells between them.

"At ease, kiddies," she barked in her best parade-deck voice. "I am Operations Chief Williams. It has come to the attention of your instructors that all of you worthless meat sacks have somehow managed to fail the single most critical skill a Marine can master. As a token of just how much the Corps loves your sorry asses, they have assigned me to teach you the fundamentals of marksmanship..."

* * *

Back on the Citadel, the work party had halted for lunch, and for the return of Shepard's paint expedition. Liara, never one for heavy meals, had stuck to a salad and water, while Solaia plowed through a turkey sandwich, vegetable slices, crackers and fruit punch. "I think someone was hungry," Liara commented with a smile. It was reassuring to see her eating again, she thought; Solaia had always been slim for her height, and the previous week's battle with the flu had left her just a little too gaunt for anyone's comfort.

"Uh-huh." Solaia put down the remains of her sandwich, looking across the table with interest. "Mother, where do babies come from?"

To her credit, Liara didn't groan, grumble or pawn off the discussion. She simply allowed herself a count of three before replying. "That is a very involved question, and its answer depends greatly upon the species involved. May I ask how this topic came to interest you?"

Solaia shrugged, making a face. "A bunch of kids in class and after-school are saying they've got boyfriends n' girlfriends. Jack n' Becky said they're gonna get married and have babies, and some of the kids play house, so Nessa said if you're the mother, you have to stuff a doll up your shirt and pretend you're havin' a baby. Keras said they're all stupid 'cause babies come from eggs not people's shirts, and Delisa said her mom said you make 'em up in your mind, and Charlie said there's some kind of 'it' you have to do first, and I don't know if they're all just teasing me or if it's true. They already tease me about being friends with Keras, so I guess they're doing the same thing about babies."

"The short answer is that they are all at least partially correct," Liara replied. "As I said, the answer varies depending on the species. It is true that turians are hatched from eggs, and that asari reproduction has much to do with the mind, and that those species who give birth to live offspring typically carry them within their abdomen, hence the doll under the shirt. As for the business of marriage and childbearing, those things are also highly dependent upon growth and maturation. Your school friends will not be having children of their own anytime soon."

"Wait a minute. Babies come from your mind? So if you have an imaginary friend, it can turn into a baby?" Solaia asked, looking horrified.

"No, little one; the process begins with the merging of two minds. One cannot conceive or bear children alone, no matter the species."

"So how's it work?"

Liara took a large sip of water before proceeding. "You are aware of the melding process, the ability we have to connect our minds to those of others. On a superficial level, we can use that meld to transfer information from one mind to another. When we meld with those we wish to mate, we allow a deeper joining, allowing feelings and identities to merge as well. At the deepest level, we access the genetic code of the mate, and a selection of his, her or its traits are imprinted onto a gamete - a reproductive cell. The daughter-to-be will always be asari, although she will usually exhibit certain physical traits of the mate."

Solaia commented, "Like I've got the same color eyes and almost the same nose as Dame, and some of my head is kinda peachy-pink like her."

"Correct - and you both share a certain love for adventure and disregard for rules, which is why you are here assisting with repairing the living room and not out with your friends."

The child's response was a long-suffering sigh. "All right, I get it, I broke the rules and this is what happens. Anyway. So you pick out some genes and print them on a gammy. What happens next?"

"The imprinted gamete becomes a zygote, which implants within the mother's reproductive tract. That zygote spends the next ten and a half standard months, more or less, growing into a baby. At the end of the process, the mother enters labor and eventually expels the live infant via the birth canal."

"Huh." Solaia thought about that for a moment. "So when you n' Dame decided to have me, you would've melted your minds together and got a bunch of human genes to mix up with the asari genes."

Liara nodded in the affirmative. "Melded, not melted - but yes, that is more or less correct."

"Nessa said babies come out through your... you-know-where, private parts. Is that the same for us?" Liara nodded again, and Solaia leaned back in her chair, moving her hands to approximate distances. "So a baby... that's this big... goes..." She looked up at her mother with a slowly dawning expression of horror. "Ow. Ow, ow, ow."

Liara's reply was a lightly ironic chuckle. "It is not pleasant, to be sure, but it need not be the trauma you are no doubt imagining. We control a great deal of the process within our minds, and then there are also medicines that can be used to relieve the pain."

"Good. 'Cause no one would ever want to have a baby if they had to just..." Solaia trailed off in mid-sentence with a shudder.

"You might be surprised. Some mothers do choose to go without pain relief, as they believe it helps them bond with the infant," Liara replied dryly.

Solaia emphatically shook her head. "Then they're really nutty. So what's it?" Off Liara's confused expression, she clarified, "Charlie said you have to do it before you can have a baby. What's it?"

"I do not... oh, I see. 'Doing it' is a human idiom for sexual intercourse. In most species, including humans, it is a precondition of reproduction. It is not required for our species, although we can engage in it if we and our mates find it mutually pleasurable."

"Do you n' Dame do it?"

"That is no one's business but hers and mine," Liara replied. "You probably ought to ask her if you want the details of the human process. And in any case, we have spent very much time talking and little working. Come along, our tasks will not accomplish themselves."

* * *

Later that afternoon, having finished her latest project for school, Solaia wandered back out to the living room. Shepard, clad in a tattered, paint-splattered old PT shirt and shorts, was applying a coat of beige paint onto the walls. "Hey there, kiddo," she said. "Nice job on the priming. Got your school stuff done?"

"Uh-huh. Can I sit n' watch?"

"Sure, if you don't mind putting some paint on the tray for me."

"Okay." Several minutes passed in silence before Solaia asked, "Where do babies come from?"

Shepard managed not to drop the paint roller, and bit back a wince as she considered her answer. _Damn, I hoped I'd be dead of old age before _this_ topic came up,_ she thought ruefully. "Well, the birds and bees get together and make them, and then the stork brings them to live with their mothers and fathers."

Solaia looked at her with a disdainful expression. "You're being silly. There's no storks on the Citadel. Really, where do babies come from?"

"Shouldn't you ask your mother about this first?" Shepard asked, hoping to deflect the conversation onto a different path.

"I already did this morning. She told me all about asari babies, and she said I should ask you about human babies."

"I still think you're a little young to be having this discussion--"

Solaia huffed in annoyance. "Dame, come _on,_ I'll be eight in a month. I'm not a little kid."

Cold sweat began to trickle down the back of Shepard's neck, and suddenly the room seemed far too warm. "Right. Okay. Human babies. Well, when a man and a woman decide that they want to have children, they, uh... well, see, there's, uh, seeds involved--"

"Seeds like a plant?" Solaia interrupted, confused.

"No, not really - they're special cells, and male seed cells are called sperm and female cells are called eggs, and you have to have one of each to create a baby." This wasn't so bad, Shepard considered; as long as she could keep to the dry, boringly clinical version of events, she stood a chance of getting through the discussion without her head exploding. "So, if the couple decides that they want to conceive, they... well, the sperm and egg have to be brought together to make a fertilized egg, and that egg stays inside the mother while it grows into a baby, and at the end of nine months the mother goes into labor and the baby comes out."

Solaia nodded sagely at that. "Mother said the same thing about asari babies. So how do the seeds get together?"

The ringing in her ears was a sign of an impending stroke, Shepard was sure of it. "Well, there's a special organ that the male has, and, uh, during the, uh, act, that organ has to go inside the, uh, female's body--"

"_Inside?_ Ew! Where? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Uh... inside-theres-an-opening-in-the-private-parts-where-that-thing-is-supposed-to-go-and-the-rest-is-a-discussion-for-when-youre-much-much-older."

Solaia looked at her for several seconds, and then shook her head. "You're weird, Dame."

Still lightheaded from oxygen deprivation after her speed-talking demonstration, Shepard managed to gasp, "Huh?"

"You could've just said it goes in the privates. That's where the baby comes out, so it makes sense that that's where the seeds would go in."

"Huh? Oh, right! That's about it, right," Shepard replied, with a forced expression of cheer. "Well, it sounds like you understand this fairly well already, so that's all you need to know for now--"

"Hang on, I still don't get something."

Somewhere in the back of Shepard's mind, a little voice snickered, _You knew you weren't going to get off that easy._ "What's that?"

"Well, you have to have girl and boy seeds to make a baby, right? So that means that boys are s'posed to like girls and girls are s'posed to like boys, 'cause otherwise the seeds wouldn't get together."

Shepard nodded yes.

"So if Mother was a human, you wouldn't like her, right? 'Cause then she'd be a girl, and you'd have to like a boy instead."

_And the discussion just went from bad to worse,_ the snarky mental voice commented, as the rest of her mind curled up and died. "Well, uh, not every person is like that. There are boys who like other boys, and girls who like girls, and people who like both... it's not common but it happens, and there's nothing wrong with it of course, just different..."

Frowning in frustration, Solaia blurted out, "But I don't get it. How are you supposed to make a baby if you don't have the right kind of seeds? And wouldn't the parts be wrong too?"

"Well, uh, not every instance of, uh, intimate contact results in a baby, no matter who it's done with. In those cases it never does, unless they go to a doctor and arrange to have the right seeds put together in a dish... "

Solaia dropped down to sit on an upturned utility bucket, heaving an aggrieved sigh. "This is the most confusing thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

Shepard nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, most of us think so, too."

* * *

Later that night, as the household had retired for the evening, Shepard emerged from the bathroom, toweling her still-damp hair. "I don't know about you, but I am exhausted. Painting is more work than I remembered it being. Looks nice, though."

Liara's reply was a nod, as she set aside her book reader. "So, I take it you and Solaia had fun discussing the human half of the reproductive equation?"

Shepard let out a drawn-out groan, dropping heavily onto the bed and making room for Liara to snuggle up beside her. "Oh God, that was torture. I don't know who's more psychologically scarred: her or me."

Liara began to laugh at the traumatized look on her beloved's face. "I highly doubt either of you will suffer any lasting damage. Sexuality and reproduction are simply facets of life; we all must learn about them at some time." With a smirk, she added, "You do have to admit that the process would be much easier if your species did not place such enormous cultural taboos on the subject."

Shepard couldn't argue with that. "What brought all this on, anyway?"

"Apparently Solaia's classmates have reached an age when one sees the occasional grade-school crush," Liara replied. "She told me that some of the children in her after-school classes have decided to marry and have children. Of course it is all fantasy, but it got her thinking about the process, and so she asked the questions."

"I remember being that age and thinking that boys were the most disgusting creatures to walk the planet," Shepard chuckled. In a more serious tone, she continued, "Nobody's crushing on her, I hope..."

"No, but children being children, the rumors have begun to spread about her and her turian friend. Keras is his name, if I recall correctly?"

An image popped into Shepard's head, that of a gaggle of children singing 'Keras and Solaia sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.' "Oh, that's it," she growled. "I am not letting her even think about dating until she's at least fifty."

"You are much more progressive on that topic than I might have anticipated," Liara replied. "I was not allowed to attend social functions until I was seventy-five, and only then with a chaperone. Some more traditional mothers would have their daughters stay at home for even longer periods..."

For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the dull, rhythmic 'thump' of Shepard's head against the wall.

* * *

Author's Note: Yep, Shepard's going to be one of those scary overprotective parents who answer the door with heavy armament when their child's date shows up for the evening. I have this mental image of 130-year-old Shep in a futuristic wheelchair, waiting at the front door with a shotgun as some poor would-be Romeo runs away in panic. I also suspect that Liara will be just as terrifying to hopeful suitors once Shep passes on. Realizing that your girlfriend's mom can crush geth armatures with her mind would be a powerful incentive to behave yourself... ;-)

Miscellaneous notes: As with the asari version, turian reproduction is extrapolated from the Codex data identifying them as a more or less avian species. A campaign hat is a flat-brimmed, peaked hat traditionally worn by drill instructors of all branches of the US armed forces. In the civilian world it's much better known as a Smokey Bear hat, or if you live north of the border, a Mountie hat.

Inspiration credit goes to mrerice and his/her idea of a first grade crush, and harpandsword who wanted to see the aftermath of the BB rifle incident. (Shep had a minor stroke of genius having Ashley be assigned to DI duty. You'd think she would remember that recruits aren't allowed to handle loaded weapons until they've been thoroughly drilled in the safe operation thereof.)

Since I set the stage for an upcoming birthday in this chapter, I'll absolutely have to do BioDragon's sleepover next. After that, it's open floor, so don't hesitate to send in suggestions. :-)

As always, thanks for reading!


	8. The St Valentine's Day Massacre

8. The St. Valentine's Day Massacre

_In which another man vies for Shepard's attention, Shepard begins behaving strangely and Liara suspects the worst.  
_

* * *

"_Three_ more days before midterm break," Solaia moaned dramatically, heaving a huge sigh as she closed her reading workbook and sprawled on the living room floor. "School can _not_ be over soon e_-nough._"

"I wouldn't say that where your mother can hear, unless you want a lecture on the importance of education," Shepard chuckled, as she walked into the living room. "Want me to check that for you?"

"Sure." Handing the workbook and a pen up to her, she blinked in surprise. "Ooh, you got your blue dressies on. You goin' someplace fancy?"

"I heard that, young lady. You certainly look dashing," Liara added. "What might the occasion be?"

Shepard winced a bit at that, as she signed the workbook and passed it back to her daughter. "That's something I need to talk to you about. Solaia, can I ask you to go hang out in your room for a few minutes? It's nothing bad, just your mother and I need to have a private conversation."

Both mother and daughter looked at each other, the former with concern and the latter annoyance. Neither Shepard nor Liara put much stock in "grown-up talk," instead preferring to include Solaia in their family discussions unless absolutely necessary.

"You were supposed to be off tonight," Liara chided gently, as Solaia departed the area. "Were you not?"

"I was," Shepard replied apologetically. "I'm sorry, love. Anderson requested me personally. I couldn't tell him no."

"So, what is this short-notice, formal event that you do not wish me to attend?" Off Shepard's stunned look, Liara continued, "Jane, I know how you look when you are trying to avoid telling me unpleasant news. I also know that you would have told me long before now if we were both invited, short notice or not. Now, will you tell me the issue, or shall I question it out of you?"

"Busted." Shepard sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's a reception at the embassy for some political bigwigs. Alliance Parliament types and so forth. It's basically a big kiss-up session... see, some of the people who'll be there tonight are pretty... well, let's say reactionary in their approach to human politics. Terra Firma is about the nicest group of 'em. There's been a lot of talk lately about replacing Anderson as Councilor. This conservative faction wants to dump him and install Udina, with Mikhailovich as their patron on the military side. They figure he'll take a harder line with the Council, force concessions out of the other species. I'm there to make sure that doesn't happen. Anderson figured he'd throw them a bone, give them a night with the Hero of the Citadel, and so forth."

"And what about this event, other than the unpleasant guest list, precludes my attendance?"

"That's just it... you remember that Saracino loser from the old days, all that 'no blood for aliens' crap... Anderson and Admiral Hackett are both concerned that these people will cause a stink if... if..."

Liara spoke quietly, finishing the phrase Shepard couldn't bring herself to speak. "If you are seen with an asari as your companion."

Shepard looked sick as she nodded in reply. "If it were any other occasion I'd tell them to take their human bigotry and take a flying... flip at a turian doughnut, but with these kinds of stakes... I mean, short of smuggling you in dressed as a Chora's girl, which would be happening over my dead body..."

"So tonight's event is really a mission, then. I can accept that. I cannot pretend to like it, but for one evening it is tolerable." Liara folded her arms over her chest, leaning against the door frame. "I assume you will have been assigned an escort for this... mission?"

Shepard nodded in reply. "My yeoman will be going with me. He's had diplomatic protocol training, and nobody's going to pay any attention to a non-com with a bunch of officers in the room."

Liara's expression grew several shades darker at that statement. "I see," she said coolly, and Shepard raised her hands in demurral. "I know you don't like him, but the guy's harmless, Liara. Honest."

"I can think of a few other words I might use to describe him," Liara replied. She and YN1 Andrew Casquette - Shepard's Alliance-issued yeoman, analogous to the civilian 'administrative assistant' - had very quickly gotten onto the wrong feet with each other, courtesy of his very poorly disguised case of hero worship, rather stunning looks and equally shallow personality. Her opinion hadn't been helped one bit by the day that she had attempted to surprise Shepard with an invitation to lunch, only to find her carefully holding the young man as he sobbed into her shoulder. From that point forward, her attitude toward him had dropped several notches below glacial.

"Sweetheart, a little trust here, all right?" Shepard said softly, reaching out to grasp Liara's forearm. "I don't like this situation any more than you do. And in any case, if I wanted a life-size doll to play with, I'd get one of those Galactic Action Heroes Solaia's always going on about." The joke drew a smile from Liara, which Shepard returned. "I don't know how late I'm going to be. Please don't wait up for me, there's no point in both of us being exhausted tomorrow."

"All right." She leaned in closer, punctuating her words with a passionate kiss. "Go, then. Just remember who you come home to."

* * *

Much later that night, Shepard returned to a darkened and quiet apartment. The reception had been a complete disaster, to put it mildly. Between the reactionary politicians' alcohol-fueled bloviating and the constant sniping of Admiral Mikhailovich over the "need for proper warships instead of expensive foreign aid projects disguised as military equipment," she, Anderson and Hackett had been hard pressed all night to maintain peace and their own sanity at the same time. When the representative from the Brotherhood of Man launched into his graphic and slur-ridden speech about his fascination with asari maidens and the number of such that he'd committed anatomically improbable acts upon, though, only Casquette's urging and the barest sliver of self-control had restrained her from slamming the perverted freak into the wall and committing a few much less titillating anatomical improbabilities of her own.

_Never again,_ she thought disgustedly. Just the whole context of the evening made her feel the distinct need for a shower. The doors to their bedroom were closed, and a glance at her omni-tool told her that it was well past 0200. Doubtless Liara would be fast asleep, and there was no point in accidentally waking her for the benefit of two or three hours of rest.

With a quiet sigh, she trudged back out to the living room, and from there into the kitchen. A few minutes' search netted her a juice glass and a rather dusty bottle of Scotch. She rarely drank, owing to the demands of her duty schedule and her brain's nasty habit of responding to alcohol with a migraine, but after the night she'd had, a cup of tea just wasn't going to cut it. "God, I hate my job sometimes," she whispered into the dark, knocking back a stiff shot of the liquor. "It was so much easier when all I had to do was save the galaxy. I'm not cut out for this political crap." Glass in hand, she walked out to the living room again, staring morosely out the window at the glow of the Wards below as she tossed back the rest of the glass. "We didn't learn a thing, did we? We came this close to getting wiped off the map by the Reapers, and now we're right back to the same macho self-aggrandizing BS as before. Nothing's really changed."

She dropped down onto the sofa, pulled off her shoes and unbuttoned her dress uniform's tunic, removing and neatly folding items into a pile on the chair. As sofas went, she thought, it could have been far worse; there was a light blanket and a throw pillow, and enough space so that she could stretch out properly without her feet hanging over the arm. Nevertheless, it was a very long time before she finally fell into a restless slumber.

Shepard awakened a few hours later to a quiet little voice and hands tugging at the blanket. "Dame? How come you're on the couch? You gotta get up and take me to school."

"Mmph," Shepard grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Solaia was standing at her side, already dressed for school and with backpack and lunch bag in hand. That in itself wasn't a good sign. To make matters worse, her temples were beginning to pulse, telling her that a headache would be arriving sooner rather than later. "Morning, Sunshine. What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty. Mother already left, she said she had a meeting an' she'd call you later." The child's eyes were wide and concerned as she spoke. "Did you get into a fight?"

_I must really be in the doghouse if she didn't even wake me up to say goodbye,_ Shepard thought. "What brought that up?"

"Nessa told me once that whenever her parents fight, her father has to sleep on the couch. 'S that why you had to?"

Despite her fatigue and fears, Shepard smiled at that, finding a small piece of solace in the uncomplicated worldview of an almost eight-year-old. "No, not really. I had to stay out very late, even past Mother's bedtime, and I didn't want to wake her up when I came home."

"Huh. Mother said you had to go to a party, 'cept there were mean people there so we couldn't go. Why?"

"That's pretty much it in a nutshell, kiddo. Last night was just a really bad situation. Some people in this galaxy just like to make things difficult." She sat up and stretched the kinks out of her back. "Give me five minutes to take a shower, and we'll go."

* * *

The apartment was quiet that night, even for a school night. Shepard had come home uncharacteristically late, had not spoken in words larger than one syllable since arriving, and the slumped, weary set of her shoulders and the lines in her forehead told everything one might have liked to know about her state of function. Dinner, too, had been a quiet, stilted affair. Shepard had decamped to the den immediately after cleanup, and the only sound anyone had heard from her work alcove since was the clicking of keys. For her part, Liara had set up shop on the sofa with a few of her students' theses to review, while Solaia busied herself with schoolwork.

"Dame, can you help me with my science project? My atom model is due tomorrow."

"Not now, I'm busy," Shepard replied, never taking her eyes off the computer screen.

"But you promised," Solaia pointed out. "And I already made all the 'lectrons and nucu-- no, nucleus, but I can't bend the wires myself."

_"_I said,_ not now."_ There was a dangerous low tone in Shepard's voice. "You've got work, well, so do we all. Stay out here and work quietly, or go someplace else."

From across the room, Liara watched the conversation with increasing concern. "Can you take a five-minute break to help her? You did promise you would."

"Of course!" Shepard slammed her chair back and stood up from the computer, her voice now an infuriated growl. "Yes, I'm sure I did, just like I promised to defend the galaxy against geth, terrorists, asshole politicians and dumb sons of bitches who can't figure out how to do a simple damned smuggling investigation! Do you have any idea what kind of bullshit fix-and-fetch requests I'm slogging through right now, or how many are left to do still? _Three hundred and forty-eight!_ But no, I'm sure I can take five minutes to do your damned homework for you! Does anyone else want to jump on the 'Let's make Shepard do my job for me' bandwagon while we're at it?!"

Solaia looked horrified, her lower lip beginning to quiver, staring at her dame with wide, fearful eyes. "No, ma'am," she whispered. "May I please be excused?"

"_Jane._ That was uncalled for." Liara's tone could have cut armor plate. "She's your daughter, not an incompetent soldier, and I do _not _appreciate your language."

"I really can't talk about this right now," Shepard snapped, going back to her computer. "I'll go apologize once I get some of these requests answered."

"The Jane Shepard I know would never make such an insensitive comment. What is the matter with you?"

Shepard halted in her work, slowly drawing a deep breath and running her fingers through her hair. "Oh, hell. I'm sorry. There's just too much of this garbage and not enough of me. Maybe I should call it an early night, wake up early and get some more of this done tomorrow," she said quietly, shutting down the terminal. "I didn't sleep last night, and I've been right on the edge of a headache all day."

Liara's response was a deeply worried frown as Shepard stood from the alcove and disappeared into their bedroom. It wasn't like her to be so worn at the end of the day, nor was it like her to be so short with Solaia - if anything, she tolerated much more in the line of childhood hijinks than Liara did. Something else was amiss, though she couldn't put her finger on precisely what.

_Well then, how do the humans say it - honey is a better bait than vinegar? _she thought with a half-smile, as she glanced through the stack of papers she had left to grade. The pile represented maybe an hour's worth of her time. After that, she was going to find out just what was going on, and she knew one very good way to accomplish it. Perhaps a bit of feminine wiles would succeed where direct confrontation had failed.

An hour and a half later, she padded silently into the bedroom. Shepard was lying facedown sprawled across the mattress, which suited her plans perfectly. Unclasping her top just enough to show a tantalizing expanse of skin but not enough to expose herself, she perched on the edge of the bed and leaned across her body, stroking skilled fingers up Shepard's back and down her sides, sliding teasingly under her shirt to seek soft skin beneath.

Shepard's response was immediate and gratifying, leaning into the touch with a low, almost primal purr. She rolled over to give her better access, and then she abruptly flinched, with a gasp that mutated into a shrill whimper.

"Jane, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Oh God, my head," Shepard gritted out through clenched teeth. "Not you, just-- oh, damn it, just won't stop hurting..."

Liara immediately edged away, the mood completely broken. Her hand still rested on Shepard's upper chest; beneath her fingers, the woman's heart was pounding, and clearly not from arousal. "This was not a good idea, was it?" she said softly.

Shepard attempted a smile through the grimace etched into her features, reaching out to cup Liara's cheek in her hand. "I'm so sorry, love... I'm no good to you tonight. Just can't shake this... this damned headache."

"I could try to relieve that," Liara pointed out.

"Maybe you could... maybe I could end up giving it to you. Probably the... first case in history of migraine being... becoming a sexually transmitted disease. Someone could write a paper." The joke drew a half-laugh from Liara, and Shepard smiled in response. "I'm sorry about earlier... it just seems like the entire Citadel has gone nuts lately. Even when someone else could help better... they all have to ask me first. I was way out of line. Poor Solaia probably thinks someone swapped her dame for the Wicked Witch of the West."

"I recall reading a fable in my childhood in which a powerful matriarch, long labeled wicked for her powers, was not truly wicked, but only misunderstood. And both you and I have seen the consequences of forcing good people into evil circumstances." It was Liara's attempt to let her off the hook, Shepard knew, and she couldn't decide if she felt more guilt or appreciation for it.

"I just need to get through this week. I'll talk to Anderson and Hackett, try to get my schedule cut back. See if I can take some time off while you're both off school. Maybe try to go someplace. God knows I need the vacation about as much as she does."

"And what can I do to help you do that?"

"What would really help right now... if you would just hold me."

Liara's reply was nonverbal, a gentle smile as she shifted positions to allow Shepard to snuggle more comfortably against her. It wasn't often that she got the chance to do this - usually it was Shepard who held her - and she found that the change in plans didn't disappoint her nearly as much as one might have expected. Instead, she simply cradled her close, sliding her fingers through the fine gold strands at the base of her neck and pushing up to carefully massage the back of her head. Unlike her earlier seductive touch, this was meant to soothe and comfort, and it worked. Shepard gave a soft sigh in reply, her breathing becoming slow and even as she drifted into a deep sleep.

The insistent trill of Shepard's communicator woke them both a few hours later. Groaning, groggy, Shepard rolled over to answer it. _"Captain Shepard, this is Casquette,"_ her yeoman's voice echoed nervously across the connection. _"I'm sorry to bother you so late, but there's been a terrorist threat at the Citadel Tower Council Chambers. You need to come up here ASAP."_

"Are you kidding me?" Shepard growled. "C-Sec can't handle it on their own?"

_"It's specifically targeted at Councilor Anderson, and a batarian extremist group is claiming responsibility,"_ Casquette replied. _"C-Sec believes you've dealt with this group before - they think it's the same outfit that was implicated in the Terra Nova attack nine years ago."_

"_Balak?_ Shit. I'll be there in ten." She rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, splashing a palmful of cold water over her face and dry-swallowing two pain tablets out of the medicine cabinet.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Council Chambers," Shepard said, as she went to the closet for the locked cases that contained her hardsuit and weapons. "Terror alert. C-Sec thinks the same mutant who tried to hit Terra Nova back in the day is back at it here."

"I thought you had a headache," Liara said, and this time there was a slight edge to her voice, warning Shepard that she was again skating over thin ice.

"My head can hurt later," Shepard replied shortly, shimmying into her armor's lower torso and pulling the upper torso section over her head. "If C-Sec's right and it is this same guy, he needs to be dealt with now. I let him go once, I'm not playing that game again."

"And how do you propose to deal with him, when you have not slept and you have taken pain medication? Jane, this is not a wise course of action. You can only place yourself in so much danger before you come to harm... please, be reasonable. C-Sec can find another Spectre, or your secretary can call for them."

"The word is yeoman, and finding someone else isn't an option." She tested the weapons pack's retention straps for snugness before unlocking her arms case and clipping each firearm onto its hardpoint. "Don't wait up for me."

* * *

"Captain Shepard, are you all right?" Yeoman Casquette asked as Shepard walked into the Embassy offices. "With all due respect, ma'am, you look like death on toast this morning."

"I'm fine, but I appreciate the concern," Shepard replied absently. "Just a lot on my mind." And that, she thought, was probably the understatement of the year. The putative terrorist attack had been a hoax, engineered by a pair of salarian kids who had seized on the Terra Nova case as a perfect target for copycat attempts. It had only taken an hour to track them down, and she'd put a righteous case of fear into them both before handing them over to C-Sec, but the damage was already done. Worse, whatever progress she'd made toward patching up her dispute with Liara had gone out the airlock with last night's emergency call. When she'd finally arrived home, the bedroom door had been locked, and a blanket and pillow placed on the sofa. The message was loud and clear: _You are no longer welcome in my bed._ As before, she'd spent the night cold and alone, only this time with the added misery of migraine, and as the hours ground mercilessly by she wasn't sure what hurt worse, her head or her heart.

_And it's not like I'm actually accomplishing anything here,_ she thought sourly, looking at the stack of busywork on her desk. The pile of budget requests, training requests, and investigation requests had seemingly multiplied overnight, and then came the interminable parade of charities and community organizations, all begging the patronage of the Hero of the Citadel. Celebrity had never sat well with her, and she had never found a good way to explain to this orphanage or that veterans' group why she just couldn't spare a moment of her time for their needs. As it was, even three Shepards could not have accomplished everything set before her.

This couldn't continue. They were all suffering, and for as much demand as she was in, she wasn't about to sacrifice her family for the sake of her job. She just wasn't sure how to go about hauling herself out of the mess of relationship trouble she'd created.

An idea occurred to her just then, as her gaze landed on the calendar windowed into her computer display. She pulled open an extranet search window and typed in a brief request. A moment later, an encyclopedia entry scrolled across her screen. _"St. Valentine's Day is a holiday of human origin, typically celebrated on the 14th day of February in the Terran calendar, which is focused on romance and heavily promoted by the greeting card industry. Prospective or established mating partners typically exchange messages of romantic interest, and occasionally purchase gifts such as cut flowers, confections and jewelry, either in the hope of cementing an existing relationship or securing sexual favors from a potential mate. An estimated 2 billion Valentine's greetings are sent on Earth each year. The holiday is rapidly spreading among the asari and the volus, who embrace its unusual mix of commerce and reproduction..."_

_A little spur of the moment maybe, but I've had most of the plans in place long enough,_ she thought, as a smile began to spread across her features. A quick check of the calendar confirmed that the university's midterm break would begin the following week and run for a full seven days. _Perfect timing. Operation Honest Woman will be kicking off tonight._ "Andrew, is there anything of actual importance on my agenda for today?" she asked, closing down her terminal and walking out to the yeoman's desk.

"No, ma'am, not since you closed out the Tower hoax."

"Good. I'd like you to clear my calendar for next week and mark me unavailable on vacation. I'm going home. I have my comm if it's an emergency, and by 'emergency' I mean if and only if the galaxy is coming to an end, understand?"

Casquette laughed a bit at that. "Big plans for Valentine's, hmm? I'll get that done right away, Captain. And good luck."

* * *

"A 68, Prof?" The student, a human female in her early twenties with a riotous mop of parti-colored hair, waved a document pad accusingly in the air as she stared across the desk. "You know how much work I put into this? This was two weeks of sweat and tears, right here. I expected at least an 80."

"If that is true, then I fear for your academic goals, because in truth, I could very easily have failed you outright," Liara said evenly. "I would have expected this... attempt at a thesis from a first-year undergraduate, not someone contesting for a doctorate. Your logic is self-contradictory in points, to say nothing of lacking in evidentiary support. Here, you state that the discovery of the cache on Mars was the sole catalyst for human expansion into Citadel society, but then three pages later you assert that humans would have discovered their own approach to mass effect technology without the use of Prothean data. The papers you cite here and here make no reference to either the Protheans themselves or Prothean influence on human culture. I would also strongly suggest that you make use of the writing resource center in your future endeavors, or at the very least invest in a better spelling and grammar program. I made a point of reading this in English, and I frequently had no idea what you were trying to say. The translator simply broke when I requested the document in High Thessian."

"But can't you cut me some slack? I'm killing myself trying to study for Prof Harsot's class, and I'm going on my field preceptorship after break. If I don't have at least a 70 I'll lose my spot on the dig team."

Liara regarded the wayward student for several seconds, weighing the stress of the program against the girl's known failings of study. Finally, she leaned forward, folding her arms across the desktop. "I will allow you to rewrite and re-submit this assignment on the first day back from break. I will be assessing a fifteen-point penalty for your first attempt. I also expect a properly written thesis, not this unreasoned mess. If you cannot pass, I will personally call Dr. Tridus and have you removed from your preceptorship and placed on probation. Do not make me regret this, Miss Srinivas."

"Yeah, I think I see where I went wrong," the student replied sheepishly. "Thanks, Prof. I'll get it done over the weekend and hand it in again when we come back."

"Good. If there's nothing else?" Off the student's negative shake of the head, she replied, "Enjoy your holiday."

_And thank the Goddess that's the end of that,_ Liara thought, packing up her briefcase before locking the office for the break. She, too, had spent the previous night lying awake, torn between mounting anger at Shepard's behavior and fear for her safety. To make matters worse, when she finally did manage to rest, it was in fitful bursts, as she continually awakened to find herself clutching at a cold and uncomfortable pillow. Ashley Williams had once joked about Shepard being her 'teddy bear,' and the Marine might not have been too surprised to learn just how accurate her jest had been. The sum of sleep deprivations made for one very tired and short-tempered professor of Prothean studies, and she reflected as she waited for the building's interminably slow elevator that she could now count their entire family as being in dire need of a vacation.

As she walked out of the building, she passed a courier, who was struggling to carry a large and spectacular flower arrangement. "'Scuse me, lady, you point me to 4601-B?" he asked. "Can't get at my omni with my hands full."

_Strange, I wonder who in the archaeology office would be receiving flowers,_ Liara thought. Most of her colleagues in the department were salarian or turian, and would not have attached any significance to displays of cut vegetation, as humans and asari did. "That office will be closed at this hour. Take the elevator upstairs to the fourth floor and follow the signs for archaeology academic advising, the receptionist there can help you," she replied absently.

Once off campus, Liara checked her omni-tool for her to-do list. A stop at the bank topped the agenda, followed by the dry-cleaners, the grocery store, and then home. A quick ride on the CRT took her to the financial district, where she headed for their local branch and stepped into one of the automated teller booths.

The VI teller blinked to life, flickering before it settled on a representation of an avuncular human male. _"Good afternoon, valued client Liara T'Soni. Welcome to First Alliance Financial Services. From this terminal, you may withdraw and deposit funds, transfer funds to a stored-value device, convert funds to alternate currencies, check account balance, or request further assistance."_ The avatar paused for a moment, and then continued speaking._ "Client alert: To better serve you and protect your financial security, one of your accounts has been marked for unusual purchasing patterns. Please review the following purchases and indicate whether these are accurate charges."_

_Wonderful,_ Liara thought with a grimace. _Jane must have gone shopping again._ The bank would occasionally hold large or unusual purchases for review as an anti-fraud measure. Since Shepard's purchases tended to involve major sums spent on arms, armor and high explosives, they generated flags with depressing regularity. Still, she had never gotten over the fear that one of those flags would turn out to be actual theft. "Review purchases."

_"One moment please."_ A second later, the system displayed a list of Shepard's transactions from the past month, and Liara's frown grew deeper as she studied it. Vraicour and Sons Fine Jewelers - by the Goddess, that one was a small fortune. Ladies' fine apparel at three different department stores. And just today, the suspect charges: A reservation fee at The Nebula, one of the most, if not the most exclusive restaurant on the Citadel. Presidium Flora and Sweet Nothings. First class tickets to Elysium, and a reservation fee at the Ritz-Fairmont Paradise Bay. This wasn't like Shepard at all, if for no other reason that she'd billed all the purchases to her work account rather than their joint household. And yet the evidence was undeniable.

She stood back, trying to sum the pieces in her mind and coming up short. Shepard had as good as said the Alliance brass didn't approve of her attending official functions with Liara. She'd recently acquired a new assistant who was clearly, painfully smitten with her, to the point of throwing himself into his boss's arms. She had been inexcusably snappish and curt, even given migraines as a mitigating circumstance, and she'd apparently been drinking in recent history, a happening so rare as to merit a mention in the record books. She had been too ill for lovemaking last night, but then hours later ran out the door, again at the yeoman's request, to deal with an alleged terrorist threat. And now, she was spending vast amounts of money on very unusual - for her - purchases and hiding the proof.

All the evidence pointed to one very ugly conclusion.

Liara cleared out the transaction, transferred a small sum from her own account to the stored-value function on her omni-tool and exited the bank branch, striding purposefully toward the nearest Citadel Rapid Transit station. She was going to find out just what in the name of the Goddess was going on, and then... she didn't care to think about "and then."

* * *

"Stars when you shine, you know how I feel? Scent of the pine, you know how I feel? Oh, true love is mine, and I know how I feel - it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life..." Shepard sang softly, standing in front of the mirror as she straightened her medal rack and shook the creases out of her dress trousers. The apartment had been cleaned from stem to stern, and a large bouquet of flowers rested in the living room, matching the arrangement she'd ordered delivered to the Citadel University archaeology offices earlier in the day. Her most formal, mess dress uniform had come out of the closet, pressed, brushed and shined to perfection. Candles stood at the ready on the tables, a bottle of Champagne and another of sparkling grape juice were chilling in the refrigerator, and - most important - the ring was tucked in her front pocket. A quick call to the maitre'd at the Nebula had secured a table for three, with the understanding that the meal would be an event befitting the holiday. So far, everything had gone perfectly; now, she just needed to explain the mission plan to Solaia when she arrived home from school, and then await the guest of honor.

The front door clicked open, startling her out of her thoughts. "Hey, kiddo, I-- oh. You're home early," she said with surprise, as she spotted Liara in the entryway. "I thought you were Solaia. I didn't expect you for another two hours."

"I'm sure." Liara's tone was pure ice.

Shepard cocked her head to one side, studying her companion intently. Clearly things were even more badly awry than she'd suspected; the repressed fury was practically radiating off her in waves, and she thought she saw the telltale sparkle of a biotic aura. "I already know you and I need to talk, but if there's something else wrong--"

"You know perfectly well what is wrong," Liara snapped. "Jane Elizabeth Shepard, how _could _you?"

_Oh no, I did _not_ just get the full name treatment,_ Shepard thought with alarm. Confused, she said, "How could I what? What are you talking about, Liara?"

"Feigning ignorance doesn't suit you, Shepard. Hiding the purchases under work expenses was a nice touch, too. Jewelry? Flowers? Candies? Reservations at the Nebula? Tickets for a romantic getaway to Elysium? And all this in the house? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Though I must say, I thought you might have better taste - taking up with your assistant is so tawdry..."

The blood drained from Shepard's face as Liara spoke. This was going very wrong, very quickly. "Oh, no. Listen, Liara, I can explain--"

"Oh, please do, I'd love to hear it! The late nights, the strange behavior, the sudden comm calls, that _touching_ scene in your office. You thought you could play me for a fool and have your plaything on the side, is that right? Or was it that I'm no longer good enough for you? Does it embarrass you to be seen with an asari? I was a fine companion to keep in the wardrobe, but now you need an empty-headed _human_ trophy to parade before the Alliance? Or maybe you feel I shackled you with a family you never wanted? You've grown tired of playing at parenthood and you want your old life back?"

That last accusation felt like a knife being run through Shepard's chest. "Damn it, Liara, you've got it all wrong, and if you'd just wait one minute I'd tell you--" she snapped, taking a step toward the furious asari.

It was exactly the wrong thing to do. In an azure flash, Liara's hand cracked across her jaw, and the combined force and shock of the blow caused a very unprepared Shepard to reel, stumble and hit the floor. "And what precisely would you tell me, Shepard? That you've been having an affair? That you're leaving me? That you would throw your family away for that call boy?"

"That I'd planned to give you this on one knee, but flat on my butt will have to do." Painfully, Shepard sat upright, digging in her pocket to produce a small velvet-covered cube, which she held out to Liara.

That statement threw Liara completely off balance, as she took the box with shaking hands. Inside was a simple, elegantly engraved platinum band, with four small emeralds and sapphires flanking a large diamond. She recognized it for what it was immediately; nearly every species presented their intended mates with high-value luxuries to pledge their bond, and the human version of the custom had gained a significant following among the other cultures of the Citadel. "I-- Shepard, what--"

"That's what I bought at Vraicour's. Had it for about a month, and every time I planned to ask, the galaxy went to Hell in a handbasket. I knew I was still neck-deep in trouble from this past week. So, I thought I'd plan a big romantic Valentine's Day - flowers and chocolates, a night out, and that over dessert. The flowers were supposed to be delivered to your office this afternoon. I guess you left before the guy got there. The vacation, those tickets are for all three of us. I kept the purchases off the house accounts because I wanted it to be a surprise."

"And how do you propose to accomplish this grand romantic gesture when your work cannot spare you for more than a minute at a time?" Liara replied skeptically.

"I talked to Anderson this afternoon. He agreed that working like a sand-addled space monkey isn't conducive to my health or welfare. I'm off entirely from today to the end of next week, and they'll be rotating in two more new Spectres to help cover me."

"But what of that day in your office? Surely you were not embracing _him_ for my benefit."

"Andrew had just found out that his boyfriend was getting deployed to the Attican Traverse for a six-month tour. He was pretty broken up over it. I think anybody would need a hug in that situation."

This time it was Liara's turn to blanch, as she realized her string of errors. "Then I accused you of an affair--"

"That couldn't ever happen," Shepard finished. "I think I told you he was harmless, didn't I? Even if he and I were both straight and single, I couldn't date an enlisted man, nor a subordinate. And all of that would have to be in some kind of Bizarro World where I would consider cheating on you for even a nanosecond."

After the haze of anger she'd been living in, learning the reality of the situation felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Hanging her head in shame, she whispered, "Oh, by the Goddess, Jane, I am such a fool - and worse, that I struck you over it..."

Shepard's reply was a lightly ironic chuckle, as she rubbed at her sore jaw. "What, that? Can't say it tickled, but it didn't really hurt either... what did hurt was what you said." There was something terribly wounded in her eyes and expression as she spoke, and Liara felt sick inside as she realized that her accusations had been the cause. "Do you truly think that little of me? That I think being a spouse, being a parent, is a game I can just quit when I feel like it? That I'd just up and walk away from you because of a few bigoted idiots in the Alliance? Was that just angry talk, or do you really believe that? Because..." She swallowed hard, her voice breaking on the words. "I mean, my God, I know I've been a galaxy-class jackass lately, but you know I can't hide anything from you. You've been in my mind, in my heart, how many times? You've seen everything there is to me. Unless you think that was all a deception too, and in that case I... I don't know where we would go from there. If you really mistrust me that badly..."

"No." Liara's voice was almost inaudible, as she dropped to the floor to sit beside Shepard. "I did not want to believe it. It went against everything I knew of you, and yet there was the dinner at the embassy, and then the business with your assistant, and then when you began to behave so strangely, it just confirmed that you were keeping something from me - but what, I did not know. At every step I feared I was losing you. And then, as you say, the matter of joined minds... well, to borrow a phrase, every time we might have had that opportunity, the galaxy intervened..."

"Quote that for the truth," Shepard said, with the ghost of a smile. "I about wanted to rip my own head off last night. Of all the times to get a headache."

"It was not even the headache so much, as the call afterward. For you to leave me and go to work, despite the pain you said you were in... I already feared what you might be hiding, and I could not help but wonder if you had feigned illness to keep me from discovering it."

"I understand that, at least. Paranoia's a terrible thing. It's easy enough to go down that path when you think someone or something you love is being threatened."

Liara nodded in agreement, but her gaze remained directed at the carpet, her expression unguarded and raw. "And yet, it does not excuse what I did... that fear of losing you could drive me to push you further away, could drive me even to hurt you. I am not certain if I should be forgiven for that."

Shepard did not reply. Instead, she hesitantly reached out to wrap one arm around Liara's back, only daring to breathe when the asari moved to embrace her fully. Liara buried herself into Shepard's shoulder, curling her frame into a ball on her lap, and when the first sniffles broke, Shepard just held her all the closer. "Shh," she whispered, brushing soft kisses over her brow. "No tears. Not worth crying over."

Neither spoke for quite a while after that, content to let the shared silence and warmth be both apology and acceptance. It was enough to allow the simple comfort of their embrace to soothe the raw nerves and wounded emotions of the past month, to hold each other close and feel each other's heartbeat and breathing, and know that finally, after all that had gone wrong, they could start to put things right.

"How can you forgive me so easily?" Liara finally murmured several minutes later, her words muffled by the heavy, wool serge fabric of Shepard's uniform tunic. "After all this pain I caused?"

"It's only unforgivable if we don't learn from it," Shepard whispered against the top of her head, tightening her grip just a bit for emphasis. "And there's plenty of blame to go around, anyway. I didn't make it any easier on you, being gone or busy for the better part of a month, and then either being sick or acting like a complete and utter idiot when I was home. Throw in some spectacularly bad timing, and it's no surprise that this all blew up like it did." She drew a deep breath before continuing. "Truth of it is, we've had a pretty easy road of it this far. We had to hit a bump eventually. I think what really set us up to fail, though, was neither one of us talking to each other. Or more to the point, me not talking to you. I own that one, and I'm sorry."

"It is easy enough to apologize, until the next argument," Liara pointed out quietly. "What then?"

"I don't have a pat answer... but I think as long as we always know where we stand with each other, though, we'll figure the rest out. At least, that's what I believe."

In a bleak tone, Liara said, "And where do we stand with each other now?"

"Wherever you like, but my answer hasn't changed: side by side." Shepard smiled gently in reply, pulling back just enough to be able to look into her eyes. "You've told me that if something happened to me, you wouldn't want anyone else. Well, neither do I. Liara, you are my heart and soul, do you understand that? You're my friend, my companion, my lover, the mother of my child - you're everything to me, the one person I love more than anyone in this galaxy, and I wouldn't give that up in a thousand of your lifetimes. What I do want is to spend the rest of mine with you. Will you marry me?"

The smile that broke across Liara's face then could have lit the entire Citadel, as she leaned in for a kiss that left them both breathless. "The truth?"

"Cross my heart, Scout's honor, and my word as an officer and a lady." With another kiss and a rather roguish grin, she added, "Though I do think you'd better check, just to make sure..."

The door banged open just then, and a voice called out, "Hello?"

"...So much for that idea," Liara said wryly, as Shepard half-groaned, half-laughed, "Oh, this is not even funny. The love gods must hate me."

A thump of a tossed backpack and small footsteps could be heard from the entryway, as Solaia peeked around the corner into the room. "Mother? Dame? What're you doing sitting on the floor?" she asked, her brow furrowed as she stared at the two of them in confusion.

"A very long story with a very happy ending," Shepard replied, with an ear-to-ear grin. "Come here, and we'll tell you all about it."

* * *

Author's Note: ...I probably should have subtitled this _"In which Prioris flips a giant fanfictional bird to the darker and edgier atmosphere and the plotted assumption of infidelity in Mass Effect 2."_ Suffice it to say that after completing the second act of our favorite sci-fi epic, I was left thoroughly unimpressed. _Le sigh._ At least there's still this little alternate corner of the universe!

The bad news: BioDragon's party eludes me yet again. The good news: Shep finally popped the question. About time!

Readers might have noticed that you really can't have secrets in a relationship with an asari, as intimate contact results in both partners knowing the contents of each other's mind. (Which could cause some difficulties if either partner dealt with sensitive information, but I digress. In any case, I'd imagine Liara still has a security clearance from the first _Normandy_ mission, to say nothing of living with and now being engaged to Shepard.) However, between the disaster with the BB gun, Shepard getting deployed for two weeks, both Solaia and Shepard getting sick and now this, they've had no opportunity to, as Shepard might winkingly put it, check for irregularities. Shepard's "not tonight, dear, I have a headache" line also gets bonus points. It's not so much a cliche with those two - I wouldn't think there would be anything romantic in joining minds with someone who was suffering a shrieking migraine at the time...

Inspired by a joke post on the Cerberus Network and by the character of Yeoman Kelly Chambers, whose degree of... devotion to Shepard verges on the desperate. It's probably a good thing she and Liara don't meet in the game, or else I suspect Kelly would be in very sore straits indeed. Musical credit goes to Michael Buble, "Feeling Good," with minor lyrical modifications.

I don't want to make promises on writing order (*is shot for failing on the party again*), but I have several story ideas lined up from reader suggestions. Thank you all for your kind comments!


	9. Spring Fever

Spring Fever

_In which a Spectre takes a holiday._

* * *

This was living, Shepard thought, slowly blinking her eyes open. The sun shone brightly through the open window, and a light spring breeze blew gently off the ocean, its rustle mingling with the rhythmic hiss of the waves. Local birds could be heard calling to each other, and the wind carried the scent of sea salt and flowers.

And, of course, there was the fact that she wasn't enjoying the paradise alone.

Back in those terrible days nearly a decade ago, alone in the deepest reaches of dark space with all the galaxy in deadly peril and the Reapers poised to end civilization, Shepard had wondered if there would ever be an end to the fight. If there would ever be a time when she would be able to rest, just sit on a beach somewhere with a tall drink and watch the days go by. More likely, she had thought, she would be fated to die on some distant battlefield, the tragic price of a valiant sacrifice. Perhaps lost in the intergalactic void, destination unknown. Or at the end of her own weapon, as too many good soldiers still did after one too many dark nights. The forces that ran the universe just didn't dole out happy endings to people like her. The idea of a settled life at all, never mind a home and a family, had seemed as far removed from her reality as elcor performing Shakespeare.

Then again, there _was_ the touring production of Kitt's _Hamlet_ playing at the Odeon. Meanwhile, the hand that rested on her chest wore a sparkling diamond ring, the twin of the bracelet on her own wrist; and the third piece of the dream lay slumbering in the room next door.

Beside her, Liara hummed a bit and stretched luxuriously, still mostly asleep as she molded herself a bit closer against Shepard's flank. A full, lazy smile rose to Shepard's lips, as she leaned down to kiss her beloved awake. "Morning," she whispered against sleep-softened skin. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm. 'ncredible," Liara mumbled, as the hand on her chest slid down a bit further, cupping the rise of sensitive flesh there. Shepard let herself enjoy the slow frisson of pleasure the touch left in its wake for just a moment, then gently guided Liara's hand back up to its original position. If they got into _that_ particular activity, there was an excellent chance they wouldn't leave their room all day - and as glorious as the idea sounded, she knew at least one person wouldn't appreciate the indulgence.

"We should probably get up. You-know-who will be waking up any minute."

"Let her."

"Somehow, I don't think 'Sorry, Sunshine, we can't go to the theme park because your parents are embracing eternity' is going to cut it," Shepard teased. "Not that I'd complain in the slightest, but..."

"Flatterer. All right. Ten minutes." Liara snuggled back into Shepard's shoulder, her eyes slipping shut once more.

The moment was broken by a quiet tap on the door, followed by a child's voice, which in turn was followed by the child in question, as Solaia leaned her head through the doorway. "Mother? Dame? You gotta get up! We're gonna go to Islands of Adventure! Come on!"

"Let us sleep a little longer, kiddo," Shepard replied. "It's only seven-thirty, the park doesn't open till ten. Besides, we stayed up late last night."

Solaia frowned at that. "No you didn't, you went to bed at the same time I did..."

Shepard felt her ears start to burn, and suddenly an extra ten minutes of cuddle time paled in comparison to the prospect of explaining their situation.

"So c'mon, get up!"

"Slave driver, is what you are," Shepard grumbled affectionately, as Liara added, "Why don't you go wash up and get dressed, and we'll be out in a little bit."

A whoop and a singsong chant of "Whoo-hoo! Demon Drop! Whoo-hoo! Wizard World!" echoed in Solaia's wake as she tore back down the hall, followed by the slam of her bedroom door.

"Remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to tell her she's old enough to go on the big kids' rides?" Shepard muttered, as she disentangled herself from Liara's embrace and headed for the shower.

"Perhaps because you retain some qualities of a very large child, including the desire to enjoy the rides yourself?"

"Hey! That was a rhetorical question!"

* * *

"Now I really _have_ seen it all," Shepard muttered, staring up at the massive holographic marquee. "They actually have a Blasto the Hanar Spectre theme ride?"

Islands of Adventure, billed as the biggest amusement park in the Skyllian Verge, did indeed boast a Blasto theme ride, plus scores more for children and adults of all ages. Thanks to the low gravity and temperate climate of Elysium, the park and its client city of Paradise Bay drew millions of tourists yearly. The prospect of warm days and real sunshine alone had sold Shepard on the idea of a vacation there; the family-friendly milieu and the locals' open-armed acceptance of Alliance servicepeople merely provided the proverbial icing on the cake. They had spent the first two days of their week exploring the beaches, wildlife preserves and museums by day, and the restaurants by night. Although Solaia had been included and had thoroughly enjoyed all the previous activities, today was solely devoted to child-sized pursuits, a prospect that had the girl practically bouncing with glee. So far they had crawled, shimmied and squeezed through The Microscopic Universe, bought "magic" wands and battled evil sorcerors in Wizard World, been utterly drenched on Thunder Rapids, and laden themselves with souvenir shirts, hats and toys of all descriptions.

On the projected 3D display in front of their current location, a hanar actor said, _"This one came here to inflict beatings on evildoers' buttocks, and chew bubblegum... and this one has no teeth with which to chew bubblegum."_ A series of flash cuts depicted hordes of faceless enemies being mown down by the hanar, who then juggled its pistol across its tentacles and into a holster-like pouch attached to its suspension harness. _"Live the adventure and save the galaxy! Blasto: Spectre On Patrol!"_

Solaia gazed with wide-eyed awe at Blasto's gun trick. "Cool! Can you do that, Dame?"

"No, honey," Shepard said, not unkindly. "It's never safe to play with a weapon that way. You can't control where it's pointing, and you could end up shooting someone or something by accident - and we both know what the rules are, right?"

"Every gun is always loaded, even when it's not, and if you aim at anything, you've decided to destroy it and everything behind it."

"Good answer. Besides, the actor isn't really doing that trick either. It's computer graphics."

Liara did not mention that she had once caught Shepard trying to learn the exact same maneuver, popping her deactivated pistol up her arm and flipping it into the air to catch it on her hardsuit's magnetic hip holster. When confronted, she had blushed bright pink and muttered something about role models and children before admitting, "Okay, I get a laugh out of the big jellyfish."

Instead, she said, "You two ought to make a decision quickly. The line for that ride is already an hour long, and growing rapidly."

"Then how about this," Shepard replied. "Let's check in for this now, go try one of the roller coasters, and then come back. Deal?"

"What's a roller coaster?" Solaia asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"An old type of ride that goes up and down hills around a track, and does loops and spins. The original roller coasters ran on gravity; they had to be towed up a hill and let slide down it. Nowadays they're run on mass effect generators, but the idea's the same."

The child thought about that for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay. Roller coasters, then Blasto."

"Might I suggest we choose something less... vertiginous?" Liara said, pinching the bridge of her nose in dismay. "I do not see the fun in a ride that hurls you about in all directions at high speed."

Shepard's reply was a smirk. "Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Just like a Sunday drive-"

"-With you driving. Oh, Goddess, I'm going to hate myself for this. Very well."

Twenty minutes later, all three of them were disembarking from the "Blue Shift" with flushed faces, plus Shepard trying to finger-comb her hair back to respectability. "Go again! Go again!" Solaia yelled, grabbing both her parents' hands and beginning to tow them back to the entry line. "That was the funnest thing ever! 'Specially the part where you flip upside down an' it spins sideways like ZOOM an' then you do the loop-the-loop..."

"Jane, you have officially created a monster," Liara grumbled, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed the fact that she had had just as much fun on the coaster as everyone else. "Once more, and then we shall have to return for the Blasto ride."

* * *

Later that night, after a light meal at the more casual of their hotel's two restaurants, Shepard, Liara and Solaia strolled down to the beach, where the sun had just begun to set over the water. Far in the distance, a ship glided across the waves, and the first few stars had just begun to twinkle through the sky. At this hour, the beach was entirely deserted, and the two adults took immediate advantage to sit down in the soft sand and rest, while Solaia ran up and down the beach collecting seashells, driftwood and tumbled pebbles from the tideline.

"She's having entirely too much fun down there, even after being up at the crack of dawn and going all day on the rides. It's amazing how one kid can run and run and run all day long, then get up and do it all again the next day. I wish I still had her energy."

"Energy that I would suspect is rapidly fading," Liara pointed out with a smile. "If I were the betting type, I would wager that one of us might have to carry her back to the room."

Shepard couldn't argue with that. Both she and Liara had had to piggyback their exhausted offspring home more than once, and Liara could still discern the telltales of a tired child better than she could. Still, she carried on her end of the old joke. "You're on. Five credits."

Liara chuckled softly at that. "I'll add it to your bill."

"You know, I used to dream of this," Shepard said softly, reaching out to grasp Liara's hand. "Being able to go somewhere that no one needed saving, no one was in mortal peril, somewhere I could just relax and watch the world go by. I wouldn't have to be this superhero all the time; no Spectres, no Captain Shepard. I'd just be another average Jane living another average day."

"In all the time I have known you, you have never been an average Jane... but I understand your meaning," Liara replied. After a long pause, she added, "What about now?"

"Hmm?"

"Now that you have your average, soon-to-be married life, how do you feel about it?"

Shepard thought about that, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Don't get me wrong, I love my work. There's something wonderfully satisfying about being able to stop the bad guys and save the day. But being able to go home at the end of that day and have my family there? Blows that out of the sky."

"Then you are very fortunate that you and I feel the same way." Liara leaned over to nestle into Shepard's side, as Solaia wandered over to sit beside them and promptly curled herself into her dame's lap. "Oh, and that's five credits you owe me."

For several minutes, all three of them were silent, watching the twilight fade and deepen into night. Finally Liara said, "Jane? Thank you. For everything."

Shepard's response was to squeeze her fiancee and daughter just a little bit closer. "No, thank you both. For being my everything."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the _Mass Effect_ fanfic section... *insert Jaws music*

Say this about Bioware, but this is now two games out of three in the _Mass Effect_ series that have prompted me back into the realm of fanfiction. First off, the ending of the game completely breaks the logic established throughout the previous two games and countless canon works (comics, novels, etc). After a truly epic lead-up to the final battle, you get a corridor shooting-gallery mission, two or three false choices that make no sense in context of Shepard's actions up to that point in the series, and an ending cinematic that functionally doesn't differ regardless of the choice you make. I wouldn't even mind Shep deciding to make the ultimate sacrifice at the end, but it's the fact that she's essentially doing it for no good reason that breaks the deal for me. Finally, on a personal note: after poor Shep spends all those years tearing a path through Reapers, Collectors, Catalysts, Cerberus and probably God Himself if she really took a crack at it (tm "One Flu Over..."), was it really too much to ask that she get her Happily Ever After? Apparently this is why I don't write for Bioware. (That, and the fact that I rather like my current profession!)

Astute readers will have noticed that Shep is wearing a bond bracelet, as opposed to an engagement ring. Cultural exchange at its finest. :-) And you just _knew_ Liara would have to make a crack about Shep's driving skills in connection with roller coasters, right?

I won't make any promises on the next installment, but now that I seem to be over my writer's block and actually have a little time to write, I'll be returning to this story on a more regular basis. Thanks to all of you for putting up with me, and as always, thank you for reading!


End file.
